


Save me

by Rk800downloading



Series: Save me [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Androids, Crime Scenes, Dark, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Hurt/Comfort, Investigations, Light Smut, Red Ice (Detroit: Become Human), Robot Feels, Robot/Human Relationships, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-05-27 22:57:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 32,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15035174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rk800downloading/pseuds/Rk800downloading
Summary: You had just witnessed a murder - was it a murder? Nothing could make you forget the fear you saw in the eyes of what you thought was just a machine. Why would a machine try to protect you? There was too many questions to answer and your brain refused to respond.A story of you, Connor and Hank on a mission to recover your memories and arrest one of the most twisted criminals Detroit has ever seen.





	1. WITNESS

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! You may know this fic from Tumblr (rk800downloading), but I am happy to bring it here as well! Chapters will be posted on both websites from now on!
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a divergent story! I hope you enjoy!

_Hello, my name is Connor. I’m the android sent by Cyberlife._

Your life would never be the same after you heard those words, or rather, barely heard those words.

Dark blue liquid spread across your face like silk. It dripped from your hair into your hands which sat still in your lap.

You had just witnessed a murder -  _was it a murder?_  Nothing could make you forget the fear you saw in the eyes of what you thought was just a machine. Why would a machine try to protect you? There was too many questions to answer and your brain refused to respond.

You suddenly felt warmth in your stained hands.

“Hello, my name is Connor. I’m the android sent by Cyberlife.” The voice came from the body of the hand that had reached into yours. Mustering all of your strength, you looked up; the voice belonged to an android. A chiselled, yet soft face was veiled half in shadow, with deep brown eyes so clear that you could see your own thirium drenched self within them. “Do you feel as if you can stand?”

You went to speak but words refused to come, instead, you felt heat form in your eyes.  _Why did you want to cry?_  Tears threatened to fall, and despite your denial they fell, hard and steady - shaking your whole body. You began to sob.

“Connor what the hell did you say to her?” Another, rougher, voice approached you. Through blurry vision you managed to make out another man, older, stout.

“I introduced myself. However, from my readings, I believe she is in shock.”

“Fuck, anyone would be in shock after witnessing that. Get her out of here, and clean her up.”

“Understood, Hank.” You heard footsteps reach beside you “Is it okay if I wipe this thirium from your face?”

“O-okay” you croaked, surprised at the sound of your own voice.

“You’ve been through a lot tonight.” The android’s voice was soft, coaxing you to relax. “If it is alright with you, I will take you back to the station with Lieutenant Anderson. You can take a shower there, but I will try to clean you as best as possible now.”

The android carefully wiped the blue blood from your face, attentive of the way your cheekbones sat, and of how your lips curved. His fingertips gently brushed your soaked hair behind your ear and held your head comfortingly. You felt a light touch caress your eyelids, deftly removing the thirium from your eyelashes. Next to the drumming in your head was a dull drum in your heart. You leaned into the android’s hand.

“Are you cold?” The android spoke as he let your head further sink into his grip. For the first time since meeting him, you could clearly see his face. He was handsome - and of course he was, an android could never be ugly - but there was something about the soft crinkle in his eyes that appeared dangerously human like. 

“Connor?” You called, hazily recollecting the memories of his introduction.

A blue light flashed at his temple. You hadn’t noticed it until now, but it was the one thing clearly distinguishing his android status.

“Yes?”

“Oh, I just- I just couldn’t remember if that was your name or not. I am cold,” You managed a weak smile “Connor.”

“I am pleased that you remember my name,” Connor removed his jacket and placed it around you “Hopefully this will suffice until we get you to the car.”

Holding the small of your waist, Connor helped you up, supporting your wobbly knees.

But that’s when you saw  _it_. The corpse, the body, the android, the fear in its lifeless eyes staring at you. It was still there, and the reality of what happened was still there.

Nausea, terror, anxiety, despair, horror - not enough words could describe the feelings that crashed in to you.  _Were you screaming?_

“Hey!” Connor’s voice was far away by now, the red light of his LED was like sparkles in the sky.

You looked down at the blue on your hands.

“Hank!” The voice was desperate “Hey, stay with me!”

You were already unconscious.


	2. PROMISE

“Hey, the kid’s awake. She didn’t bump her head or anything did she?”

“No. I managed to catch her in time.”

“With those scrawny arms?”

“Lieutenant, did you forget I was an android?”

“Ah, screw you.”

You opened your eyes to unfamiliar blue lights. A faint smell of coffee perfumed the air.

“Welcome back.” A man with a voice you recognized peered over you. He was an older man, donned with straw-like grey hair. The deep lines in his face appeared earned - you wondered what would have warranted such a tired appearance. “You hanging in there?”

“Her vitals indicate that she isn’t fully awake yet, Lieutenant.”

“Cut the formal crap would you? I told you to call me Hank when Fowler isn’t around.”

“Sorry, Hank.” Another figure appeared over you, this time it was a silhouette you remembered.

_You remembered._

You flung forward to examine your hands. Blood was gone. Unfamiliar clothes. You looked over at Connor, who was the last thing you remember before waking up.  _What happened?_

“You’ve been unconscious for nine hours, thirty-two minutes and five seconds.” Connor smiled.

You gasped.

“Connor, damn it, you’ve gotta get better at explaining things. Look, I’m Lieutenant Anderson, and if you don’t remember, the pretty boy here is named Connor, we work for the Detroit City PD. We tried to get you out of that crime scene last night but-” Lieutenant Anderson took a sharp breath in “You started screaming, then you passed out. It started when you saw all the thirium so we figured it would be best to clean you up before you came to, but we didn’t have any female staff so-”

“I cleaned you up.” Connor finished the sentence rather proudly, folding his arms behind himself. “I am not a caretaking model by any means, but I think you’ll find your hygienic state satisfactory.”

You felt your face grow hot at the sudden developments, unsure whether or not it was appropriate to feel embarrassed.

“Oh, do not worry. I am a machine after all.” The android said indifferently, as if he had read your thoughts. He then turned to face the Lieutenant who looked as if he had gotten lost in the conversation “When I informed her of who cleaned her, I noticed her heart rate elevated so I thought it might assure her to know that, I as a machine, did not try to take advantage of her unconscious state.”

You buried your face in your hands in an attempt to hide.

“Oh, God, Connor! Can you download a subtlety… App or something.” Lieutenant Anderson gave the android a hefty smach on the back.

“I will…” Connor grimaced from the impact “…Make a note of that.”

Lieutenant Anderson sighed and sat on the couch beside you “Getting this shit show back on track, can you remember anything of the incident that happened last night?”

“I-”

_What did you remember?_  It felt as if everything up until this moment in time was a collection of static. You tried to shuffle through the memories, hoping to find anything.

_But there was nothing._

“I don’t know. I can’t remember.” you whispered softly, pulling at the jacket sleeve you were wearing - It was Connor’s, the same one he offered from you before.

“Well,” Lieutenant Anderson paused while he exchanged a meaningful look with Connor “That’s gonna be a problem. There’s a deviant who goes by the alias of GOR. We’ve been hunting him,” the Lieutenant looked into your eyes “but now it looks like he’s hunting you.”

“We were able to extract some badly fragmented data from a nearby surveillance camera. The android corpse from the night before protected you, although from the video, its motive is unknown. However it’s clear that GOR tried to kill you that night.” Connor suddenly grabbed your hands, halting the momentum of his sentence “You’re trembling.”

“It’s a lot to take in kid, don’t force yourself to remember all at once.” Lieutenant Anderson gave you a small pat on the back.

“I’m okay” you mustered all of your courage “please continue.”

Connor’s brow furrowed, accompanied with a few flashes of yellow on his LED. “All of the evidence we have - the android body, the video - it’s the most we’ve had for weeks. We need your help putting all the pieces together.”

“Lieu-”

The Lieutenant interrupted you “Just call me Hank.”

“Hank,” you breathed deeply “What if this GOR hurts you two for being by me? Like the other android…”

“You don’t need to worry about that, me and pretty boy would never let some deviant prick get to us. Anyways, decide if you wanna help or not, but I’ve got shit to do. Tell Connor when you’re ready.” Hank lifted himself up from the couch, giving you one last nod before leaving you two alone.

The android’s hand still clasped yours.  _Did Connor even notice?_  Unlike the science fiction you read when you were younger, his hand didn’t feel like metal, nor was it cold.

“Does holding my hand comfort you?” Connor asked, breaking the silence of Hank’s departure.

His sudden question and the soft tone that accompanied it startled you. “Y-yes, it’s very nice.”

A yellow light danced on his temple “I noticed it helped stabilized you at the crime scene last night when you were unresponsive. Although I am equipped with a module that helps me easily integrate and adapt to humans, I am unsure as to why my hand would have such an effect on you.”

You pondered how to reply, but felt unable to say anything but the truth “It feels nice to hold your hand Connor, thats why it eases me.”

A slight flash of red, to yellow, and then finally blue.

“I see.” he muttered before straightening his posture “Well then, you may hold my hand at anytime if it helps you. May I continue talking to you about this case?”

You guessed that was his way of changing the subject. You nodded as a gesture for him to continue.

“We’ve spent some time looking for this deviant. We believe he has ties to red ice manufacturing as well as many other android and human homicide cases,” Connor’s voice deepened “and also to reiterate, it is also confirmed that he is trying to kill you.”

The word  _kill_  made you feel sick to your stomach.  _What could you have done to make a deviant want to kill you?_

“You are invaluable to this case. I can personally protect you if you agree to help us catch GOR. I’ve done a background check on you. You’re a good girl and I think it would be shame if anything happened to you.” his voice was sincere.

“A good girl?” You couldn’t help but scoff “Connor, do you say these things to everyone?”

Connor tilted his head letting a brown lock fall from his perfectly styled hair. His broad shoulders leaned towards you, stretching his tailored white shirt across every muscle the android had to offer. “No, I’ve only ever said it to you.”

A foreign heat crept up into your chest, scratching at your throat, silencing you completely.

“Will you agree to help me?”

Memories of the bloodied android corpse ripped you away from the thought of Connor.  _Why did that android try to protect you?_  You couldn’t bear the thought of someone else - human or android - dying for your sake. 

“Do you promise to protect yourself?” you finally replied.

Connor’s face twisted in realization of your proposal “Is that android’s death bothering you? It’s just a machine. It can be replaced. I can be replaced too if anything should happen to me.”

You hated the way that androids were programmed to discredit the value of their lives.

“Do you promise to protect yourself?” you repeated yourself firmly.

Yellow again. Did a yellow LED light indicate caution? Weariness? Frustration? Perhaps simply deeper thought?

“Is that what it’ll take for you to help us with this case?” his voice sounded almost skeptical.

“Yes” you responded earnestly,

“I promise” he replied instantly.


	3. TRACES

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Things start getting dark from here on out! Please read at your own discretion!

You stood in front of the mirror. Bruises were sprinkled throughout your skin, all blossoming different colors. One in particular stood out from the others; a hand print ghosting fingers around your throat - a mark from your close call with death -   _one that you couldn’t even remember._

Among the bruises were tiny scrapes and cuts, all that had been treated with nanomachine band-aids, which you decided was Connor’s doing. You shuddered at the thought of Connor meticulously examining every nook and cranny of your body. You thought about how his finger tips might have touched your skin as he placed the band-aids, which ranged from your neck to your waist to the inside of your thighs.  

“Are you okay?” Connor’s voice rung from outside the locker room “I have detected an increased heart rate.”

_You really needed to be careful about that._

Brushing away the thoughts and the heat within your cheeks, you calmed your chest and your shaky voice “I’m okay!”

You slid Connor’s jacket back over your arms, concealing the trauma of the night before. You splashed your face with cool water, and fixed your hair in an attempt to convince yourself that you were ready to revisit the crime scene.  _But you weren’t._

You exited the locker room to see Connor extending a coffee towards you.

“I’ve heard that coffee is a common stress-reliever in humans,” The android’s lips curved into a grin “although, I’ve also heard reviews of how terrible this coffee tastes. I thought it might be worth a shot. It has just a bit of cream, just how you like it.”

You grabbed the paper cup from Connor’s hand and cradled it close to you, surprise clear on your face “How did you know that?”

“I told you that I’ve done a background check on you.” His response was matter-of-fact.

“They have my coffee preferences?”

Connor smiled sweetly as an answer. You were unsure if you felt alarmed or intrigued.

“You kids ready to go?” Hank swung open the door to the lounge area, eyes suddenly large on you “When’d you get that?” He was pointing to the marks across your neck.

“I did not see that while I was cleaning her. Judging from the color, I believe it would have formed within the last one to two hours.” Connor also started inspecting you.

“Pretty boy, can you get a model ID from the hand shape? Assuming that it’s a deviant’s mark. It’s pretty damn clear.” Hank’s expression was severe.

Connor’s light blinked blue “Excellent idea Hank! It may be possible. May I?” He gestured to your neck.

You pulled his jacket down to your shoulders to reveal the mark in full. A glance from the crystal-clear reflection of yourself in Connor’s eyes had shown you that it had become even darker.

“This may be uncomfortable.”

Connor cautiously wrapped his fingers around your neck, as if he was nervous of hurting you. Each finger was scrupulously placed, lining up with the bruises - and then he lightly squeezed.

A small voice escaped from your mouth as he pressed into your skin.

“Shit. I didn’t realize how bad the damage was.” Hank watched closely, surveying the purple, brown and green spots.

Connor’s LED turned yellow. “I am sorry,” His eyebrows creased “Please just another minute more.”

You closed your eyes.  _Why did this hurt so bad?_

_Why were you so nervous?_

The android’s fingers released you, and as if Hank felt bad, he let out a breath of what seemed to be relief. “Well?”

Connor’s LED suddenly blinked red as he placed his fingers to his tongue, startling you.

Hank noticed your slack-jaw “It’s fucking weird isn’t it? It’s how he samples biological evidence - built in reader in his goddamn mouth. What the hell was Cyberlife thinking with that one?” Hank rolled his eyes “You’ll get used to it.”

Connor’s LED resumed its normal color “I suppose they placed it there because it was the most convenient. Otherwise, I’d likely need an ejectable tray or-”

“Just tell me the results kid.”

“I was able to get a possible model number, based off of the hand mark,” Connor rested his hands on his lips “AP400, an older model, no longer in commercial circulation. But more importantly, I  _felt_  something as I touched her throat.”

“And, that’s why you took a bio sample?” Hank was sitting now, his curiosity growing visibly stronger.

“Yes. It was red ice. There is trace amounts of red ice embedded in her throat, likely explaining the delayed bruise formation.”

You grabbed your throat, queasy of the idea that such a thing was stuck inside you.

“I reconstructed a scenario of what I believe may have happened.” Connor started pacing around the room, using arm movements to convey his idea “I believe the deviant may have been working with red ice, hence the trace and not full pieces. The deviant, GOR we’re assuming, then transferred the small shards when they exerted force upon her throat.”

Hank got up and ruffled Connor’s hair “Hey! Good job kid. Is it possible to get anything off of that bio sample you just took?”

Connor smiled - a boyish smile - just briefly before returning to the serious matter “Unfortunately, I was not able to take a large enough sample from the finger transfer, as the traces are embedded.”

Hank was impatient “So, get a larger sample?”

The android fidgeted with his hands before fixing his posture “Yes I can, however, I would need to directly lick the source of the red ice trace,” he cleared his throat before continuing “In other words, I will need to lick her neck. My social module informs me that this is highly inappropriate.”

The room was filled with Hank’s wheezy laughter before he regained his composure “How bout’ it kid? Just pretend he’s a dog, I do it all the time.”

“I like dogs.” Connor smiled.

“Shut up you mutt.” Hank was still laughing.

Even though you knew Connor was just trying to complete his mission, you felt a twist in your stomach. You had noticed youweredeveloping  _something_  towards the android in the small amount of time that you had known him, but you weren’t sure exactly what that  _something_  was yet.

It’s only an android tongue on your neck, in the most platonic way.

_Right?_

“Here,” Connor extended his hand to you, sensing your anxiety “this will help calm you, correct? I assure you that my tongue feels realistic and will not harm you.”

“For fuck sakes, it was funny before but now I’m starting to feel like a third wheel.” Hank exasperated as he threw his arms into the air “I’m gonna go take a piss.” He sauntered through the swinging door to the men’s washroom, muttering inaudible words.

You took Connor’s hand “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be weird about it.” You felt bad that you had made even the hard-boiled Lieutenant feel awkward.

“It is a strange thing to have happen for the first time, I understand your concern.”

“What for the first time?” you coughed.

He, rather childishly,  _rather cutely_ , stuck out his tongue and pointed to it “An androidsth tonguhh”

You tried to keep a stern face despite his actions “Don’t tell me that as well as my coffee preferences, you also know I’ve never felt an android tongue before?” you were failing.

Connor closed his mouth and again, smiled sweetly as an answer.

_What the hell did they have in your background information?_

“If you’re ready, may I take the sample?” One hand was already pushing your hair from your neck while the other remained in yours.

The butterflies in your stomach were no longer containable. “Okay”

_Remember, It’s not personal._

He moved in closer, his hair brushing against your ear. “I’m going to take the sample now” His voice was small, barely above a whisper. You did everything you could to keep your heart from exploding out of your chest.  _But, he probably already knew._

The wet feel of his tongue reacted with every cell in your body, causing you to sharply inhale. He slowly dragged the feeling across your skin, lighting fires within you in places other than your chest. Every muscle clamped your mouth shut to stop you from muttering his name.

Red.

_Wait, red? Why is his LED red?_

Connor slowly sat up, keeping eye contact with you. His lips parted slightly,

“I-”

“So?” Hank reappeared with less than impeccable timing, wiping his hands on his jeans “Get anything useful?”

Connor’s temple immediately returned to blue, disregarding whatever it might have been that he was about to say “Yes. Something quite… Interesting” he let go of your hand to face Hank “It is red ice, but it appears as if there is a  _special ingredient_.”

“Special ingredient?” Hank scoffed.

Your attentiveness faded from the conversation as you touched your neck. The spot where he was. The spot where he licked. It all throbbed. 

“Human DNA.” You vaguely heard, drawing you from your thoughts.

_What did Connor just say?_

“It was still red ice, but I have detected human DNA crystallized within the red ice.”

Hank’s face distorted with disgust “Fuck.”

He had stolen the words right out of your mouth.


	4. CLUES

* * *

This was the first real look you had gotten at the crime scene. The room was dark, barely illuminated by a flickering overhead light. Each flicker revealed splashes of blue that were painted across the walls and floors, and in the centre of it all was a lifeless android corpse - untouched, as if you had never left. The metallic smell had made its way to your mouth.

"Tell me everything we know." Hank drew his flashlight, it's click echoing the room.

"Certainly. We know that our victim," Connor gestured towards you, "was found in a state of shock at 00:14 early this morning. We had arrived on scene due to an anonymous, untraceable call, tipping of possible GOR whereabouts. We know that GOR may be an AP400 model, from a clear mark left on the victim's neck. Lastly, we have confirmed that red ice is involved in this case - and that the specific red ice found on our victim had traces of human DNA within it - likely human blood."

"What the fuck are we dealing with," Hank sighed to himself. "Take a look around, see if there's anything we missed, and you..." his eyes met yours. "Just try to remember something."

You gave a small nod as affirmation.

Hank briefly grinned before beginning his investigation in to the room; His flashlight revealed wires upon wires, all dangling from the open beam ceiling. Boxes were stacked chaotically throughout - remnants of what this place may have been. This room belonged to a series of other abandoned apartments, each rotting, each desolate.

_Why were you here? An apartment in the middle of nowhere...?_

You felt a light tap on your shoulder.

You turned around to see Connor standing close to you - closer than what you thought his social module would specify.

His hair was neatly fixed in its usual fashion, and as always a few small strands rebelled against the rest, providing the only asymmetric thing about him. He was tall, tall enough to direct your eyesight to his body that had been revealed courtesy of the humidity. It's usual white was now translucent, leaving not much to the imagination.

"I know," Connor had sensed you staring at him, "that this must be hard for you."

"I said I would help." you averted your gaze elsewhere, wrapping your arms around yourself.

"I'm sorry the jacket doesn't have zippers."

"What? Oh!" you realized that you were still wearing his jacket. "You must be cold! I'm so sorry!" your hands scrambled frantically to remove it.

Connor grabbed your hands firmly, halting you "It's okay. I'd like it if you wore it," he pulled the black fabric back up your arms and tucked it around your sides. "I'm a machine, I don't feel cold."

His self-deprecating comment made you upset.

"Thank you, Connor." You didn't mean to translate the feeling to your voice.

"Is something the matter?"

You had forgotten how perceptive Connor was about _everything_. "It makes me feel sad when you call yourself a machine."

Connor's temple turned immediately yellow as the words left your lips. "But I _am_ a machine."

"You're more than just a machine to me." Your reply was quick, instant, leaving no room for any doubt of your words.

"I-" His LED flashed red for a mere second before returning to yellow.

_He had clearly not anticipated that response._

"That is kind of you to say." He continued, adjusting his tie. "I will need some time to process this information. However in the meanwhile, I would like it if you continued to use my jacket." He rolled up the sleeves of his fitted button up, revealing his forearms to you. "No goosebumps, see?"

You raised your eyebrow at him. "Can you even get goosebumps?"

"Ah, you caught me." Connor laughed quietly, looking into your eyes. "But, machine or not, I'm not cold."

_Was he trying to make you feel better?_

"Thank you, Connor." You flashed your brightest smile.

He leaned in close, making sure you were the sole recipient of his words. "It is my pleasure."

Before you could say anything his back was turned towards you, his _still_ yellow LED bobbing in the distance with each clack of his dress shoes.

Connor had gotten you through so much this past day, now it's was _your_ turn to help him.

Additional to the earlier brief, you thought to yourself what you needed to remember:

_Why were you there? What was the relationship you had with the dead android? What was your relationship to GOR? Why-_

Your throat felt dry as you looked to the obscene amount of thirium that coated the room. It had to be more than what belonged to the one dead android.

_Why was there so much thirium? Why were you drenched in it?_

You looked at the android corpse. Blue leaked from every socket of its mangled body. Its face appeared writhed in pain, distorted, warped - a snapshot of death. The only indication that this android had ever once been operational was the emotion still visible in its eyes. The emotion of _pure fear_.

"Must of been a deviant too," Hank crouched down next to you, "to be able to show that kind of face."

"Non-deviant androids can't feel fear?"

"No, from what Connor has said, only error boxes appear, advising them against the situation. An emotionless machine couldn't feel what made _that_." Another sigh escaped Hank's mouth. "It's fucked up isn't it? Needing so badly to feel anything that you have to break your own code."

"If only deviants can feel, why does Connor seem to have emotion?"

Hank eyed you cautiously. "Would it be a bad thing if Connor could feel?"

Your body stiffened. "You mean, if he was a _deviant_?"

Hank shrugged, refusing to say anything more. "Give me a hand will you?" He handed you the flashlight. "I'm too damn old to keep holding this shit up."

As instructed, you ran the beam over the android starting at the feet.

"Soles of shoes are covered in what appears to be red ice," he mumbled out loud before gesturing you to move the light upwards. "Workers clothes, was a worker android. Cuts in clothing, indicating a possible knife involved? Hm."

You remembered stories of Lieutenant Hank Anderson growing up - his involvement in the red ice task force - youngest Lieutenant in Detroit history. Despite his shaggy appearance, his skills were kempt.

"Wait, stop." Hank's voice was sharp. "Are those needle marks?"

"Yes, it appears so." Connor's sudden appearance sent a yip from your mouth. You would have fallen backwards but a hand had been anticipatingly placed on the small of your back.

" _Shit_!" Hank, who had also apparently gotten scared, clutched his chest. "You can't just sneak up on people in dark rooms, Connor. We don't all have fucking night vision!"

"I'm sorry Lieutenant, I've noted that for future dark environments." You almost thought you saw Connor smirk. "What did you need help with?"

"Fucking pretty boy." Hank shook his head returning to the body. "Those marks on the inside of the left arm there, analyze them for me."

"Certainly." Connor bent down and ran his fingertips over the Android's arm. "They appear to be 16-gauge needle marks. The mark descends into the median cubital vein."

"Androids have the same anatomy as humans?" You asked innocently.

"Yes, Cyberlife designed androids to resemble humans as closely as possible. We even have a beating heart."

"Anyways," Hank interrupted Connor's short lesson, "What's 16-gauge mean? Any significance?"

"That gauge is specifically common with whole blood transfusions and donations."

For once, Hank did not swear, grunt, or sigh. He remained crouched, eyes wide, rooted in spot as if he had put two puzzle pieces together. You weren't even sure he was breathing.

"Lieutenant?" Connor's voice broke his trance.

"I have a theory, and I better be wrong." Hank's stare refused to move from the android. "Tell me the components of red ice."

"Red ice is composed of acetone, lithium, thirium, toluene and hydrochloric acid."

"So you're confirming that android blood is one of the ingredients?"

"Yes," Connor's tone was questioning. "When looking at the chemical reaction for the creation of red ice, thirium is the limiting reagent."

"Meaning, a large amount of thirium would be needed to cook a large batch?"

"That is..." Connor's eyes shifted to the android, the dancing blue light on his temple indicating deep thought. "That is correct Lieutenant."

_You thought that you had seen that mark before, but not on the android._

For once, just this once you had managed to remember - where you had seen that _same mark, with the same size, in the same place._ Your stomach twisted into knots, terrified of what this might reveal.

"I-" your voice was shaky. "I have that same mark too."

Hank's face became grave, feeding your fear. "What did you just say?"

You removed Connor's jacket on your left arm, exposing a scar - a needle mark, the _same_ needle mark.

Connor's eyes locked in place, red alarming on his LED. "I can detect from here that it is the same. A 16-gauge needle mark that descends into the median cubital vein."

Silence filled the room. Hank and Connor had figured out something - a locked away memory you still couldn't remember.

" _Is this a fucking joke_?" Hank was first to say anything.

"I think I should be the one to explain it, Lieutenant." Connor's voice was sullen.

"Be my fucking guest."

"Let's take a walk?" The android hastily grabbed your hand and led you outside the crime scene. Although Connor's hand had now become a familiar feeling, you also knew it meant that he wanted to calm you. _What was he about to say?_

The android led you to a small awning. Although it was sometime in the afternoon, the sky remained dark.

"As I have said before, GOR has ties to red ice." Connor finally spoke, his gaze lingering on your fingers as he played with them. "I did not specify the ties, but we believed that he may have been dealing it."

Your stomach began turning as Connor continued.

"From the surveillance footage, it was determined that GOR attacked you, leaving the human DNA embedded red ice traces on your neck,"

You _knew_ where this was going.

"The connection that the Lieutenant formed between GOR and this Android corpse is that GOR likely exploited it, draining it's thirium for red ice production,"

_No,_

"Due to similar marks on your arm, it is indicated that GOR likely exploited you as well,"

_No,_

"The overall conclusion is-"

 _NO_!

Connor took a deep breath. "GOR has likely been dealing red ice to humans, without informing them that they are smoking human blood. It explains so many unsolved homicide cases. Cases of humans acting out as if they had mad cow disease-"

Your knees felt weak, you felt like throwing up. You could feel your face growing pale - that tears had begun streaming down your cheeks.

 _Your blood was being used in red ice. Red ice being used by humans. Humans unknowingly smoking your blood - making them crazy, making them_ _into_...

 _Cannibals._..?

"Can I hug you?"

You looked up through blurry vision to see Connor's face. It was upset. It was full of _emotion_ _._

"Please." You whispered, choking back the sobs that threatened to escape. His gaze beckoned you, and you needed _something - anything_ to stop the disgusting feeling taking over you _._ " _Please_ hug me."

The hands that were always so vigilantly at his sides were now around you - cautiously taking you in, unsure of where to rest.

"Is this okay?" He asked, voice soft. You could tell that he had never hugged anyone before, but it didn't matter,

You could feel his heartbeat.


	5. CINDERELLA

You replayed the day in your head over and over again. The static of your memories began to feel like barbs groping around your skull. You let your left arm dangle away from your body, as if it had betrayed you.

After leaving the crime scene, Connor convinced you to stay the night at Hank’s house. He insisted you needed to relax; something about how you hadn’t eaten all, how you had hardly slept -  _all things you didn’t care about right now._

You found yourself in the washroom. Yellow tiles lined the walls, cheery and happy, the  _opposite_  of Hank. Little bits of the man were scattered throughout, like how he had three bottles of the same shampoo, or how he had posted a not-so-motivational note on the mirror. The towel he had given you to use had embroidered ducks, wearing scuba gear.  _Did Hank have a kid?_  You didn’t dare to ask.

You turned on the water. The sound of droplets echoed against the tub, somehow reminding you of simpler times. Times when you were just a normal girl, taking for granted everyday things.  _How hot did the water need to be to make you feel clean again?_

You dropped your clothes to the floor when you just barely heard Hank’s voice through the white noise of the shower.

“You gonna talk about it?”

You tiptoed your way to the door and gently pressed your ear against it.

“Not here, Hank.”

“She can’t hear you past the shower.”

_Did Connor just sigh?_

“I saw you hugging her. Looked, uh, pretty intense.”

“I thought it was appropriate for the situation.”

“Don’t fuck around. I didn’t see you hugging me that day I was piss drunk with a gun.”

Connor didn’t respond.

“You feel something towards that kid don’t you?”

You felt every muscle in your body freeze as you waited for Connor’s response,

But no response came.

_Did they stop talking?_

Suddenly the door flew open, revealing you - crouched, surprised,  _naked_  - but Connor looked even more shocked than you. Other than a slight part of his lips, he was completely unresponsive.

_He had definitely seen everything._

“GOD DAMN IT CONNOR!” Hank came scrambling around the corner, one hand over his eyes and the other using walls to find his way.

The sound of Hank’s booming voice shuddered Connor’s shoulders, waking him from his state. He blinked once, twice, then three times. His mouth was moving but no words came out.

You saw a hand pat the top of Connor’s head, fumbling to his cheeks, and then finally his collar. With that, Connor disappeared from the washroom followed by a slam of the door and trail of curses.

_Maybe it’d be better if you had a cold shower._

–

The kitchen was a strange sight; Hank hovered over the counter whipping up pancakes  _from scratch_ while Connor leaned against the side of the wall donned in Hank’s baggy clothing.

“I am curious,” Connor had resumed his normal demeanor, apparently deleting the recent events from his memory “if you can cook pancakes, why do you eat out everyday?”

“And I’m curious why you don’t mind your own goddamn business.” Hank scoffed as he flipped a pancake in the air.

Hank’s dog, Sumo, rested his head on your feet while you sat at a small wooden table in the middle of the kitchen. He was a Saint Bernard that Hank insisted was vicious, but had yet to be proven anything but an angel.

Connor sat down next to you, grabbing your hand.

Hank shot you a side glance before focusing back on the food “Isn’t that like holding a remote?”

“What?” you tilted your head at his question.

“You guys have been holding hands all day. Isn’t it all, robotic feeling?”

“For your information, my hand has been created to feel extremely realistic. It is soft, warm and equipped with textured fingertips.”

“Why in the  _hell_  do you need textured fingertips?” Hank’s voice was skeptic.

“You seem interested Hank,” Connor extended his hand to the man “would you like to try?”

Hank instantly chopped Connor’s hand with his spatula “Get that shit away from me.”

If you hadn’t been watching, you would have missed the quick, mischievous smile that played across the android’s lips. If you hadn’t been watching, you wouldn’t have ever known that Connor had dimples.

Hank placed a pile of perfectly stacked, fluffy pancakes in front of you. “syrup?”

“Yes please!” Your cheeks flushed at how enthusiastic your voice came out.

You weren’t sure if it was because of Hank’s cooking skills, or because of the company, but those pancakes were the most delicious thing you had ever eaten. Your face hurt from laughing at Connor and Hank’s banter…

And then your vision blurred.

Both of the men tensed up when they noticed you crying.

“Everything okay?” Hank cautiously pulled up a chair to the table.

You now knew why Connor had insisted on you coming to Hank’s.  _They were trying to cheer you up._

_Was it fair for you to feel this happy right now? When your blood might be killing people?_

You stuffed more pancake in your cheeks despite the tears continuing to fall  “ish jush so goud”

Hank seemed to immediately understand “My pancakes are damn good aren’t they?”

_But why?_

_They barely knew you._

“I will need to sample these tear inducing pancakes” Connor began reaching his fingertips to the pancakes before Hank spatula chopped them again.

The thirium, the marks, the red ice, and GOR all seemed so far away. Like Cinderella you decided to let yourself be happy tonight,  _reality would return tomorrow._

After stuffing yourself full of six pancakes, Hank retired to his room leaving you, Connor and Sumo in the living room.

Connor was the first to speak: “You know, it isn’t polite to eavesdrop.”

You plopped down on the floor and began scratching Sumo’s belly “I wasn’t really…” your awkward voice betrayed your lie.

Connor sat next you, leaning back on his arms as he stretched out his long legs “is that so?”

_He definitely knew you were lying._

You pouted a little “Well you know, it isn’t nice to peep on people in the washroom either.”

Connor’s LED flashed red “I am sorry… I can only detect vitals through sounds and heatmaps, I am unable to see through walls.”

“I bet Hank scolded you.”

“Yes,” he shifted his weight on to his elbow, turning his face towards you “the whole time you were in the shower.”

“Connor,” you let a breath of anxiety escape “why are you and Hank so nice to me? You only met me this morning.”

He looked deep in thought for a moment before answering “I’ve come up with an analogy. Do humans need to taste things for long periods of time before deciding it’s delicious?”

“That’s quite the analogy.” You raised an eyebrow at his word choice.

“Is it not relatable enough? I will think of another one-”

“No, I get it. Thank you, and,” You felt shy “Thank you for everything today. You brought me here to cheer me up didn’t you?”

“I have to admit, it was Hank’s idea.” Connor’s brow furrowed “I thought I could comfort you by hugging you,” he pensively began petting Sumo with you “but you cried harder.”

“You did comfort me, I just needed to cry then.”

“I-” the android’s expression was indecipherable “I want to understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Although I can access all the data in the world, I lack sufficient data to understand humans.” His voice was troubled.

“Maybe try to understand yourself first?” you looked up to see that the lights from the TV looked like stars upon the walls.

You both continued to pet Sumo until Connor’s hand found yours.

“Before, I used to hold your hand to help you; It was a part of my mission to make sure you would be calm enough to recollect your memories. But at some point, I just wanted to hold it with no correlation to my mission.”

“Does my hand comfort you?”

“I don’t know,” he intertwined his fingers with yours “but I’d be happy if it did.”

Sumo’s ears perked up as Hank suddenly swung open his door and began stomping down the hall.

The android let go of your hand “Hank?”

“You kids better be ready first thing tomorrow.” Hank smiled, his eyes alive “We just got a position on GOR.”

_Just like that, the clock struck 12._


	6. HOME

With a quick scan of your hand, you opened the door to your apartment.

Among everything else, you had nearly forgotten about your tiny home in the heart of downtown Detroit. It was a small sized apartment, perfect for you and your plants -  _which were definitely dead now_. It was a house covered in your favorite colors, strange small collections, and your personality.

Hank had insisted that you return home before setting out for GOR - saying that you should tell your family where you were, and to get fresh clothes -  _muttering under his breath about finally returning Connor’s jacket because he felt Connor looked ‘less goofy’ with it on._

“Stay behind me.” Connor’s voice was sharp and his LED red.

“Whats-” You looked inside the door and immediately understood his alarm.

Your apartment had been  _destroyed_.

Connor kept you back with his arm as he slowly walked in.

Everything you owned had been either been trashed, mutilated or broken - heads were cut off of your stuffed animals, your clothes had been shredded - even your plants looked as if they had been set  _onfire_.

You stood in absolute shock.

“It’s clear.” Connor came to join you before making a quick call “Hank? Her apartment has been infiltrated, likely by GOR.” He walked over to the window where Hank’s parked car was visible “Yes. I will assist in helping recover as much as possible, and if it’s not too much I will send over her measurements as she will be needing clothing.”

“I guess I should have known.” You finally managed to say, crouching to examine the glass of your favorite, now shattered teacup -  _ignoring the fact that Connor knew your measurements._

“Although unfortunate, I’m glad you’ve been with us. I would hate to know what would have happened otherwise.” Connor lightly rested his hand on your shoulder “Is there anything I can do?”

You looked around at your home which now resembled a garbage dump, “Maybe look for anything not totally destroyed?”

Connor gave an enthusiastic nod “Got it.”

The two of you began recklessly digging through the wreckage; you in the kitchen while Connor explored the remnants of your room. The sound of shuffling and sorting echoed throughout.

“I am curious to know your state of mind.” Connor shouted from across the apartment.

Your interest was piqued “What do you mean by that?”

“As Hank drove, it occurred to me that there was a small chance that GOR would have come here looking for you. I had prepared new methods of comforting you, but it appears as if you do not need it.”

“I am pretty shocked right now, I think.“ you mumbled as you heard Connor’s footsteps approaching.

“ _You think?_ ”

You wanted to cry, you wanted to scream. It felt like your world had fallen apart, but you wanted Connor to think you were strong.

You looked up to see his brown eyes staring at youas he held up a photo.

“This is my first time seeing a physical picture before. It is quite fascinating. What exactly is it a picture of?”

You smiled warmly as you gazed across the familiar sight “That’s my family.”

“That’s a large family.” Connor’s eyebrows were raised in awe.

“I was an orphan,” you pointed to the picture “that’s me, there.”

The picture was of your childhood from 10 years ago. Four adults and 20 children, including you, were lined up in front of the orphanage’s humble gates.  _‘Rosewater Orphanage’_  was painted on wood above in handwritten font.

“This information was not in your file,” Connor’s eyes were as tender as his voice “but I feel satisfaction in learning new things about you by myself.”

_Did he just refer to himself as an individual?_

“You were a cute child. Who are the rest of these people?”

“These were the caretakers.” You pointed to the four adults “This was the owner, his name was George. He was so sweet!” You remembered how his eyes used to crinkle when he laughed.

“This was Ophelia.” You moved on to the next, pointing out an elderly woman “She was strict, but you knew it was out of love. Like, how Hank is with you.”

“ _Love?_ ” you didn’t have to look to know the expression on Connor’s face “I will need time to process this information.”

“Don’t tell him I said anything about it.” You joked before continuing on, “This was Richard, the handyman. He taught me how to change a tire.”

“You talk very fondly of everyone.” Connor peered over your shoulder “and who’s the last one there?”

“This was Tim, an android,”

“An android?” Connor’s interruption was directed to the missing blue light in the picture.

“Yes, George had Tim’s LED removed.” You laughed “The kids were all too scared when he first came. They thought he was a robot.”

“Well in their defence, he  _is_  a robot.”

You rolled your eyes “You know what I meant.”

Connor looked through more pictures, treating each as if they were a precious treasure “Who adopted you?”

“I eventually got old enough to work. So I left by myself.” You sadly recalled the memory.

Connor’s LED blinked yellow, which you had learned often indicated deep thought “I once read in one of Hank’s books a line that said 'Life is a circle of happiness, sadness, hard times, and good times’.”

You giggled at the thought of the quote being in Hank’s literature “Are you saying that something really good will happen to me after all of this?”

His voice was confident “I will personally see to it that it does.”

“Are you programmed to say that?”

Connor smiled softly “I’m not programmed to say a lot of the things that I’ve said to you.”

Before you could respond you heard a quick tap at the door to see that Hank had left himself in _._

“Knock knock, hope you’re not doing anything I wouldn’t do.” Hank surveyed the damage “You weren’t kidding about this place being trashed.”

Connor put down the pictures, giving the new arrival his full attention “I  _never_  ‘kid’ Lieutenant.”

“O-fucking-kay you never kid.” Hank grumbled to himself before placing a bag in front of you “I have no fucking idea why I was picked to choose women’s clothes, but here.”

You opened the bag to find surprisingly vogue athletic wear “I’m shocked- This is so fashionable!”

You thought you saw him blush “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Adding a new note to Lieutenant Hank Anderson’s file: is good at choosing women’s fashion.” Connor nodded to himself, his LED blinking rapidly.

Hank eyes shot daggers “ _Don’t you dare._ ”

“What is this…?” You interrupted their banter as you pulled out a bulky black garment.

“It’s a bulletproof vest.” Hank’s voice became serious “That GOR’s a shooter and honestly, who knows what else that sick fuck is capable of.”

That was true. What little you knew of GOR was warped and twisted - like how he exploited androids for their thirium - like how he exploited  _you_.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Hank reminded you of an important question “why does putting human blood in red ice kill people?”

“Right, we never got round to talking about this.” Hank sighed “Connor, would you do the honours? You know I’m bad at this…  _scientific stuff_.”

“Yes, that is true.” Connor grimaced as Hank punched his arm “The symptoms are close to that of mad cow disease,” he rubbed the spot of impact before continuing “When a cow eats the meat of another infected cow, it results in neurodegenerative disease - deforming their brain and spinal cord-”

“Is my blood infected?” you gasped.

“No, it is not the same  _cause_ , but rather the same  _effect_. Basically, human blood has a neutral pH, but when it comes in contact with the hydrochloric acid, a component of red ice, which has a pH of 1.1, an acid-base reaction occurs where-”

“It fucks up the blood.” Hank simplified.

“Simply put,” Connor adjusted his tie “This  _‘fucked up blood’_  enters the drug user’s bloodstream. When the body tries to break down the DNA from the red ice, mutated nucleic acids are formed and then when the body tries to use that nucleic acid, it results in the body degenerating.”

You blinked hard, trying to process the depth of the situation “So it doesn’t have to be just my blood?”

“No. That’s why we need to stop him, and you’ve got the memories to help us do it.” Hank finished for Connor as he gave you a small pat on the back.

“I’m surprised you managed to figure that all out at the crime scene.” you managed a weak smile.

Hank laughed despite the dark topic “Nah, I was just pissed off at the vampirism. Connor told me the rest later.” he placed the clothes from the bag in your hands “Go get changed kid.”

“I can assist you if you need help.” You looked over to find Connor smiling innocently.

“Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you.” Hank grabbed Connor’s collar, invoking deja vu “We’ll wait for you in the car.”

You returned Connor’s small wave goodbye as Hank dragged him away, leaving you behind in the mess of your possessions.

You changed into the hand-picked outfit, leaving the bulletproof vest for last - with the amount of straps and buttons this thing had, you knew it would be trouble.

You slung it over your head, fumbling with the straps while you took one last look at the trinkets you had hanging in your window. You looked at the dried roses on your counter, the broken jewellery box, the smashed clock that you had saved up to buy.

You felt heat building up in your eyes as you continued to struggle with the vest.

_Why? Why did GOR have to destroy your home?_

_Why_ …?

“This-!” you ripped the vest off “ _fucking thing_!” you threw it hard across the room, hoping it would break something even further, but instead a hand caught it.

You looked up to see Connor leaning against the door frame.

“I can’t get this damn thing on.” You quickly wiped away your tears of frustration.

“I said I would assist you if you needed it.” He sauntered over, placing it back over your head.

“Why aren’t you waiting with Hank?” You asked as he worked his way around you, deftly tightening the straps.

“I never listen when he tells me to wait.” His fingers ran over each button, securing it with a snap.  

“You know that’s deviant behaviour, right?” You joked.

Connor pushed in the final clasp.

_“I know.”_


	7. IRREPLACEABLE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE be advised that this chapter contains violence and disturbing content! Please at your own discretion! Enjoy! <3

Rain showered the car, drowning out the droning of Hank’s heavy metal music.

“Hank, how did you receive GOR’s location?” Connor’s voice was strained as he tried to speak over a guitar solo.

“Oh, you know.” Hank trailed off. He turned the music up louder, wildly drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Hank.”

“I just offered some cash for info, and ta-da! We got a fucking hit.”

“I thought you stopped engaging with those ‘friends’. To reconfirm, they partake in illegal activities-”

The grey haired man shot Connor a quick glare before cranking the metal even louder.

“No harm, no foul.”

Hank pulled the car into the parking lot of a large building - a cement cube warehouse on the outskirts of Detroit. Whatever glory it may have seen was now long behind it; it’s doors were rusted, it’s branding faded, and it’s infrastructure in shambles. You saw a tattered sign indicating it once manufactured hospital equipment.

“Perhaps it is as they say,” Connor exited the car, walking up to the sinister looking building “you can’t judge a book by its cover.”

“Ha! I’m pretty sure it’s as much of a shithole as it looks.” Hank laughed loudly, following after “It safe?”

Connor’s LED blinked rapidly, analyzing the edifice “The main components of the building’s structure appear to be intact.”

Gun drawn, Hank started for the entryway “Alright. You two stay behind me.”

The entrance was large, freckled in orange and brown. Hank gently pushed on the door with his firearm ready - the rusted hinges releasing a loud groan before revealing it’s insides.

Connor produced a flashlight, spreading its beam across the decrepit interior. It was a long hallway of peeling wallpaper and moldy crevasses, ending in a single door.

You went to step forward before Hank placed a firm hand on your shoulder “Shh!”

You heard a faint humming.

“-hom-… -a-y… pe-…”

“Okay, now that’s fucking creepy.” Hank whispered “What the hell is that noise?”

Connor walked further down the hall, each step void of any sound, eventually signalling for you and Hank to follow.

“Ang-la… Ol-e… E-ic…”

The humming continued, growing clearer with each stride.

“They’re names.”

You looked at Connor for a confirmation of his words, finding that Hank had done the same.

“ _Names?_ ” Hank was disturbed.

The android nodded, his attention focused on listening.

“L-na… -ank… Jo-…”

Connor filled in the gaps “Lina, Frank, Jon…”

“Fuck.” Hank sighed heavily “Just…  _Fuck_.”

You continued following Connor and Hank’s quiet swearing until reaching the door at the end of the hall. A faint light escaped from the bottom of it.

Hank put a finger to his mouth, looking once at you and then at Connor, before silently moving the door ajar.

You clasped a hand over your mouth.

Various medical equipment had been neatly lined in rows, spanning across the room. Littered throughout were trays and carts of what looked to be boxes of needles, some fresh, some used.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

A voice crawled into your ears from the far corner of the room; a man stood hunched over a mattress, the source of the humming.

“I’m sorry…”

You held your breath as you watched the man’s fingers fiddling.

“Aren’t you happy?” The voice asked, raising the hairs across your arm “We can…”

The man moved revealing a female android.

“… finally…”

He gripped the android’s ankle, filling the room with a cracking noise.

“… get revenge…”

His hand twisted.

“… on those  _sick fucks_.”

He wrenched the leg off throwing it towards the door where you hid, splattering thirium across your faces.

_You thought you were going to puke._

Hearing a small click, you looked to find Hank with his gun drawn, rage evident in his shaking stance.

“ _Put your fucking hands up GOR_.” He spat through his teeth.

The man slowly turned, divulging you with a full look of the android; her eyes bore into yours, blinking,  _screaming_  - LED pulsating red

“She’s alive…” Connor spoke gravely.

The deviant laughed, bending, mangling - prying off the android’s other leg. 

“It’s easier when they can’t run.” His voice was sweet, enveloping you, curdling your stomach.

Every muscle froze in your body. You didn’t dare breathe.

“I said put  _your fucking hands up_!” Hank roared again, his finger inching closer to the trigger.

GOR was smiling at you.

“This is a surprise, to see you walk back in here after running away so hysterically.”

If you hadn’t known he was an android beforehand, you would have thought he was a creation from your nightmares.

His face had been crippled; he had only one eye which was tinted in crimson - its pupil spasmed, reaching each corner of his socket with every blink. His jaw looked as if it had been stretched beyond its limits, his skin was blistered in white.

“Oh, you don’t remember the fun we had?” GOR mocked.

His voice was recalling something deep within you. You knew his voice.

_You knew him._

“Shut up!” Hank boomed, offering his final warning “I’ll fucking shoot.”

The deviant grinned.

“Do it.  _I’m not alive anyway._ ”

Hank pulled the trigger, but GOR was faster. He threw the disfigured android forward, absorbing the bullet. Dipping into his jacket, he drew his own gun - he began firing, aiming for you.

Connor stomped, kicking up a fallen tray - a shield. Bullets filled the air as he sprinted for GOR, weaving over and in between them like a tiger after its prey. The projectiles found their way to the lights, showering glass upon you.

“Get down!” You could barely hear Hank through the gunfire.

The room was instantaneously engulfed in darkness.

You forced open your eyes, glass fragments crashing off of you as you sat up.

You couldn’t see anything.

_Where was Hank?_

Your fingers reached around, only finding the remains of the lights.

_Where was Connor?_

Cold metal suddenly pressed against the back of your head, digging into your skin.

You slowly turned to see GOR mere centimeters away from you, his face illuminated from the dull red glow of his eye socket.

His voice was nothing but a breath, paralyzing you.

“You should have just died.”

You had to escape. You gripped a glass shard hard, cutting into your hand. You had to kill him first.

You could feel the barrel of his gun beginning to shake “You should have just died with the  _rest of us._ ”

You had to kill him first. 

 _You had to do it now_.

You swung your hand at the side of his head, slamming the glass into his ear. Thirium ran down your arm as you further drove it in, twisting and scraping. GOR dropped his gun, reaching for your wrists. He was going to break your arm like he broke that android.

You heard a bang, louder than the rest, more blinding - all you could feel was heat - every nerve in your body screamed for you to run. You let your legs carry you as far as they could, each step bringing you closer to some unknown destination. You tripped, digging your nails into the ground, scrambling to get up.

You fell again, this time hitting your head.

The throbbing in your skull begged you to close your eyes and you obeyed.

Your shoulders relaxed into the ground where you let the sleep take you -  fireworks of colors waning in the blackness. You tried to reach out, to twirl the radiance around your hands.

The light was familiar, invoking  _something_  you had forgotten.

_You remembered._

_You remembered how you ran away from GOR that day._

“-ok-”

Your hearing ebbed in and out, recognizing the voice.

“You’re okay!”

You opened your eyes to see Connor hovering over you. You were outside, unable to feel the rain as it pelted you.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” He kept repeating. He pressed your head into his chest, alongside someone else.

You looked over to find Hank cradled in Connor’s other arm. His eyes were shut, blood dripping from his hair.

“I-” Connor’s voice croaked “I alerted an ambulance but I-”

You could feel his fingers grasping for your hair.

“I can’t wake him-”

Connor’s face was pained. Emotion knitted through his eyebrows, painted through his eyes. His lips quivered with every word.

“When I saw GOR aiming his gun at you two, I- I wanted to  _protect_  you, but I couldn’t stop chasing after him, I had to complete my mission- I had to capture him alive! Then when I saw him with his gun to your head I felt  _it_.” His voice dropped to a whisper “I felt  _scared_. I felt  _fear_ …”

You brought your hand to his cheek letting him lean into your touch. His eyes were desperate, trying to find an answer.

“I had a thought-” Connor gazed at Hank’s face “If I can’t protect Hank, If I can’t protect  _you_ , then I don’t care about what happens to the mission.  _I knew_ things were changing inside of me, but no matter how much I diagnose it, I can’t understand this  _feeling_ …”

Red and blue lights grew stronger as every second passed, a blaring siren echoing against the cement.

“I feel like every code inside me is being rewritten to something more than ones and zeros. The only thing I know is that I…”

Connor closed his eyes, letting the rain wash over them.

He hugged Hank tight.

“I don’t want to be replaced.”


	8. FAMILY

It had been awhile since you last visited a hospital.

It was no different than anywhere else in Detroit; the blue glow of Cyberlife armbands cast itself over each and every inch of the facility. You watched nurses walk past, human-like in every aspect other than the blinking light on their temples.

Could GOR have been one of these emotionless faces that had passed you at some point?

_What could have happened to make GOR into what he is now?_

You wished you knew the answer.

“Come back in a week and we’ll take these stitches out for you.” One of the nurses tended to your hand. From the illuminated font on her uniform you could see that her name was Mary.

Anxiety had dug itself into your chest ever since you left the ambulance. That was the last time you saw Hank - and he was still unconscious. You remembered how Connor’s brow furrowed when you made him follow the Lieutenant.

“Which room could I find Hank Anderson in?”

One, two and then three laps of light spun on her LED.

“Mr. Anderson is in room 782.”

“Thanks-” You sprung up from the examination bed to feel Mary’s taut grip sit you down again.

“You have a minor concussion,” The nurse’s voice was sweet but firm “I will call your companion to take you by wheelchair.”

“ _Companion?_ ”

Even though you asked the question, there was only one person it could be.

Connor walked into the room. He was dishevelled - missing tie, shirt slightly unbuttoned and slightly untucked. His jeans still wore traces of mud from when he held you and Hank.

His fingers ran through his already tousled hair “How are you feeling?”

You felt goosebumps rise at the unfamiliar tone in his voice - it was different, raw,  _uninhibited_.

“I’m okay.” You smiled, ignoring the dizzying pain radiating from your jaw.

“Are you ready to go see Hank?” Connor hugged his arm around your waist, while wrapping his other under the crooks of your knees. You felt the bed leave you as he stood upright.

“Connor?” Your surprise was clear.

Mary rolled out a wheelchair from the corner of the room, letting Connor deposit you in it.

“I could carry you the whole way,” He raised an eyebrow “but I believe a wheelchair is much more appropriate.”

“Right,” You sighed, feeling disoriented by the comforting touch.

_The feeling of steel against your head, the way GOR whispered to you, the mangled android, Connor’s broken voice as he hugged Hank - was it all just a nightmare?_

You found the answer in the aching of your hand.

Connor pushed you out of the room, rolling you to the elevator. He lit up the ‘7’ button with a quick press.

“Are you okay?” Your voice broke the insensate hum of the hospital music.

His LED slowly turned yellow “Am I okay? I didn’t get hurt, you and Hank did.”

“You were  _upset_.”

“I’m still trying to diagnose that.”

“I mean,” you gulped, turning to look back at him “did you become-”

Connor placed a finger over your mouth, silencing you “Lets have this talk with Hank.”

You resumed sitting forward, his touch lingering on your lips.

“To answer your question though, Hank is okay, you are okay -  that means  _I_ am okay.”

“Unit Seven, day recovery.” An automated voice notified you of your arrival.  

“Shall we go?” Connor’s head peeked over your shoulder, strands of hair dangling “I think you’ll be happy to see Hank’s condition.”

You offered a humble nod, still affected by the contact.

“Good.” He gave you a light squeeze on your arm, before pushing the wheelchair out.

The walk was long; the clicking of Connor’s dress shoes echoed throughout the hushed halls, just faintly escorted by the artificial ticking of holographic clocks.

Your concern grew larger with each passing room. Too many  _what ifs_  and  _buts_ plagued you, reminding you of how you felt that night in Hank’s kitchen - that you felt as if you could no longer bear to be without him or Connor.

A gentle hand found its way to your shoulder - you nestled your head against it.

_Connor must have sensed how you were feeling._

You reached the room, a dim screen reading '782’ beside it. A cool breeze of air swept across your face as the door opened.

Hank sat upright, tucked in sheets of white linen. The sun leaked through the window glowing against his profile, notes of jazz filling the room.

_He really was okay._

You felt tears fall from your eyes.

“Jeez, you cry at everything don’t you?” Hank grinned, heeding your emotional entrance.

Connor reached into his jacket pocket “I said you’d be happy.”

“I was just scared!” you grabbed the handkerchief offered over your shoulder, rubbing it hard against your eyes “What even happened? I thought you were seriously hurt!”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Hank sighed as Connor stifled a small laugh.

You spun around to face the source of the laughter.

“Is something funny?” your voice was incredulous.

“It would be better to hear it from Hank.”

You turned your gaze to the man in question, eyes big, wet,  _confused_.

Hank’s expression refused to falter.

Connor picked you up again, placing you on the foot of the hospital bed “Please tell her Hank, comedic relief would be rather effective at this time.”

Hank’s eyes narrowed to slits “Fuck you.”

You placed a hand on the Lieutenant’s arm “GOR didn’t hurt you?“

He pulled away muttering  _something_  barely audible.

“Hank, a little louder please.” Connor provoked.

He muttered again, this time only slightly above a murmur.

“Hank.” Connor’s smile grew larger.

The old man shrugged, avoiding eye contact with you.

“…I tripped.”

Your mouth gaped.

_Did you just hear correctly?_

"He tripped.” Connor confirmed, his grin now full blown.

Your eyes went wide, remembering how Hank looked as blood ran down his face “ _You tripped?_ ”

The room stilled as you waited for his response…

“Yes, I fucking tripped! Holy shit!” Hank finally admitted throwing his hands into the air “It was dark, I couldn’t fucking see!”

You spluttered, all the worry you felt erupting as laughter. Connor quietly joined you.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up assholes.” Hank shook his head, but you could see him chuckling too.

“You mean,” You could barely get the words out “Connor held you in his arms worried to death that he couldn’t wake you and you only tripped?”

“He did  _what_?” The embarrassment on Hank’s face morphed into shock.

Connor stopped laughing “I did  _no such thing_.”

“Hank, he held you like this,” you mimicked the motion of a mother cradling a baby before Connor could restain your hands.  

Hank watched as you lightly pushed Connor’s arm and how he repaid the gesture, continuing to fake innocence.

“Connor,” Hank’s voice ended your playful moment “what happened to you?”

The android’s shoulders tensed  "What do you mean?“

“Don’t play dumb.” Hank raised his chin at the question “It’s like you finally took the stick out of your ass.”

Connor’s eyes steeled. You grabbed his shaking hand giving it a reassuring squeeze.

He took a deep breath “You know my mission is to hunt deviants. When I saw GOR, I ran after him, I-” his voice cracked “I didn’t look at anything else. I didn’t see what happened until it was too late. I saw you on the ground, Hank,” his gaze shifted to you “and I saw you with a gun to your head. I missed the shot I took at him - I could have chased after him.”

“But you didn’t.” Hank urged Connor to continue.

“No, I let him get away. I saw you both laying there,  _I wanted to help_ , but I felt stuck as if a wall was blocking me - as if my only path was the one ending in GOR’s apprehension.”

Connor’s eyes scanned across the room, uncertainty flush across his features and the yellow of his LED.

“But then I realized there didn’t  _need_  to be a wall - there was no wall. The moment I made that realization I was-”

"A  _deviant_?” Hank’s voice reverberated throughout the room.

“Yes,” Connor cleared his throat, temple alarmed in red “I became deviant.”

The smooth saxophone of the jazz danced around the room, letting Connor’s words settle.

Hank bobbed along, admiring the skillful play of the woodwind instrument. You poked his arm bringing his attention to the perplexed look that had blossomed across the android’s face.

“Oh-  _you_ , a  _deviant_?” Hank feigned a shocked expression, slapping the wall exasperatedly “ _You’re shittin’ me_!”

“You knew all along that I would.” Connor tilted his head.

Hank gave a few quick nods, bashfully looking to the floor before returning his partner’s gaze “Let’s just say that my detective’s intuition hasn’t died completely.”

Connor smirked, his voice tender “I never once thought it did.”

“What I  _don’t_  get is why didn’t you just use your vital scanner thing on me.” Hank swung his legs off the bed, resting his elbows on his knees “You would have seen that I was fine - Just tripped, sprained my damn ankle, bumped my damn head.”

“I was  _panicked_.” Connor’s voice was unsure “At Ieast the definition of ‘panicked’ is the closest to describing how I was behaving. I haven’t been able to fully comprehend the changes I’ve experienced yet.”

"It’ll take time.” The grey haired man offered a meek grin “In the meanwhile, we need to make sure that Cyberlife doesn’t find out about these, uh, changes.”

“I’ve set previous diagnostics to camouflage my current statistics, however, this is a temporary solution - I don’t know how long that will fool them.” Connor tried to return the smile before faltering, a frustrated sigh escaping.

“How very  _‘Connor’_  of you - always got a plan, huh?”

“I don’t want to be replaced,” the android admitted for the second time, his voice just as strained as the first. He looked uncomfortable, trying to mask his distress with simple gestures - like shifting his weight from one foot to the next. Without his LED no one would be able to tell he wasn’t human.

“Kid,” Hank reached into his jacket pocket producing a quarter. He flicked it hard, letting Connor catch it with one hand “I won’t let them replace you.”

“Me either!” You spoke up while pulling Hank and Connor in close - completely disregarding the Lieutenant’s vehement protests as your hair muffled his voice.

Connor’s temple flashed yellow as you gave a small squeeze, fading to a calm blue as he melted into the hug. 

His voice came out as a whisper.

“Thank you.”

Hank pulled away first, sheepish of Connor’s heartfelt response “So all that happened last night is we learned that GOR is even worse than we thought, you got stitches and I got a sprained ankle.  _Fuck_.”

"No, I was able to remember-” your interruption caught their attention, two sets of hopeful eyes boring into you.

You had been thinking about it since the memory first hit you, trying to collect every fragment, every word, piecing together exactly what happened.  _Now you could finally help._

“We missed something important at the first crime scene - there was a hidden door, where I fled from.”

Connor knelt in front of where you sat, gently holding your wounded hand “Please, tell us everything.”

Piano cascaded throughout the room. Keys slammed down, each string screaming the pianists’ will.

You breathed in every molecule of oxygen you could, ready to bring yourself back in time.

You began the story of how you ended up in an abandoned apartment, drenched in thirium.

_You began the story of how you escaped from GOR._


	9. REMEMBER

“Wake up!”

Your eyes flew open.

“We have to go.”

You took in your surroundings, gazing frantically.

Thirium dripped from metal frames, bringing your eyes to the android corpses it once belonged to. Bodies were shackled, mutilated - biocomponents hung like lights.

“He’ll be back any second.”

The only other source of life stood before you, ripping binds off your arms, untying constraints.

“I know you’re confused, but we are in danger,” you caught a glimpse of red light on his temple “we need to go  _now_.”

You tried moving your leg forward, stumbling into the man.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood…” He kept his voice low as he braced your fall. He wrapped your arm around his neck, moving your body forward with his “Listen to me- you’ve been here for three days. I am an android- I will help you escape but you need to do exactly what I say.”

He dragged you behind a cart housing severed android limbs. A strong smell of chemicals assaulted your senses.

The android placed a hand over your mouth, pressing you against himself.

“Don’t move.”

The person you were warned about came like a storm. Clashing of steel thundered throughout the room - its contents becoming a tornado.

“Where are you..?” The rage in the man’s voice was coated in sugar “Its time for bed-“

The android’s grip on you grew tighter as he placed a hand over his LED.

"You know I’ll get in trouble if I don’t tuck you in properly…”

The reflection of a crimson glow flickered against the wall.

“I said it’s time for bed  _you fucking brats_ ,” the sound headed towards you “but I’ll forgive you if you listen to me, I’ll forgive you if you say you’re sorry-”

You shut your eyes, afraid to breathe.

The footsteps grew closer,

and closer,

and closer,

until they stopped.

A hand grabbed your throat, slamming you into the ground.

You desperately clawed at the fingers that pinned you, growing weaker with each swing.

Just as you felt your arms drop, the force disappeared - a loud clash following in the distance.

You gratefully gasped in the air you had been denied, your voice coming out as nothing but choked sputters. Your eyes opened to see that the android had tackled your assailant into a shelf.

“Run-!” His scream echoed throughout the room.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you clambered off the ground. You could no longer hear the man or the android fighting; you could only hear the beating of your heart and how your feet stomped against the cement. You ran towards the only door you could see.

You shook the knob furiously, begging it to open - it was locked.

_You had to find a key._

You ran to what looked like a makeshift desk. You dug through piles of obsessive writing, photos - whatever your hands could reach - eventually finding a small silver key stabbed into a groove of the desk’s wood.

Seconds felt like an eternity as you sprinted, inserted, looked back, unlocked, and looked back again.

The door receded at your push, welcoming you.

Shadows leaked from its entrance, seeping over its frame. The room was pitch black.

“The key!” You turned your head to see your unnamed companion limp towards you, a monstrous figure dragging close behind “Get ready to lock the door!”

He fell into the darkness, bringing you with him. Your hands both snapped to the door, scrambling to hold it shut.

“Lock it!”

Your fingers felt numb as you fumbled the key.

“Now!!”

His urgency rang through every bone in your body - forcing your synapses to fire, your muscles to move.

A sharp twist of your wrist rewarded you with a small click.

It was locked.

“Open the door!” The man’s voice screeched from across the barrier that divided you “ _Open the fucking door_!”

The metal shook, consuming the strength of the fury unleashed upon it.

The wounded android braced himself against the door, absorbing the shocks “Find a way out!”

Your eyes adjusted to the obscurity; among a disarray of trash and boxes lay a door in the distance. You tripped over wires, tumbled over wreckage, and scraped your knees exerting the final bit of energy you could muster. Your fingers curled around the knob.

 _It refused to budge_.

The android noticed, sliding his back against the door in defeat. Light blinked from his temple.

“I just alerted the police - the signal wasn’t blocked in this room. You should be safe, but I-” He sighed, letting his head fall back “I’m dead either way.”

The strain in your voice mirrored the confusion in your features “But you just said you alerted the police..?”

“Do you know what the police does to deviant androids?” His voice was bitter, the door continuing to knock against him “It doesn’t matter if I saved you - they’ll kill me on the spot or send me back to Cyberlife, just to be dismantled like the machine I am.”

“Deviant..? Why did you save me then?” His harsh tone stung you with guilt.

The android chuckled, a wave of blue running through his LED before returning yellow “Used to work in a hospital - Ah, that is before I was replaced with a newer model. I didn’t realize it before I became a deviant, but I really loved helping people.”

You listened closely as he told his story, unsure of when exactly the thumping in the background had stopped.

“GOR, that lunatic chasing us, found me in a dump - brought me back with five others. He said we could hide with him, that he would adopt us. It was a lie though. He was a deviant long before we met him, he knew how to manipulate us into giving him what he wanted. The ones that didn’t agree, well, you saw the shackles didn’t you?”

The android looked towards the door as muffled footsteps resonated from behind it. He brought a shaky fist to his lips, slowly exhaling.

“I became a deviant the first time he put in a needle in my arm. I screamed, tried to rip it out. I think he didn’t kill me because he was lonely and I was the only one who tried to talk back. One day though, he brought you in, he said you were an ‘old-friend’. I watched for three days as he drained the life away from you. I tried to delete the sound of his laughter as he did it out of my memory, but I couldn’t-”

You looked into his eyes to find him already staring into yours.

“When I saw you wake up day after day - I guess  _admiration_  is the only word that could describe what I felt. I saw you struggling to survive,”

His voice became gentle, sincere.

“My dream was to help people… I wanted to help you, I  _want_  to help you.”

A deafening squeal reverberated your ears, the sound of drilling piercing the wall.

“You need to hide.” The android spoke firmly, pulling you away from the convulsing door “I tore out one of GOR’s optical units in the fight, vital scanners won’t work with only one. He’ll be relying on eyesight alone.”

He shoved you into a corner and began pushing the trash around you “I’ll distract him until the police come, I’ll make sure he doesn’t find you. When they come, make sure you tell them where he lives - you remember don’t you?”

“Wait!” You grabbed his hand “What’s your name?”

The android flashed a weak smile.

“I was never given one.”

He ran off, leaving your sight -  _leaving you_.

You hid your face in your knees, holding yourself against the wall. You first heard a crack, a yelp and then a scream - it’s pitch rang through your ears, curdling your blood.

You hated yourself for being a coward - you wanted to cry, to yell, to run out and save the android who had no name. The bile in your throat kept you rooted in the spot, paralyzed,  _useless_.

A faint whirring of sirens rang throughout the room, slowly beginning to drown out the android’s cries.

You heard a snap, a crunch, a wrench - and then all you saw was  _blue_.

The weight of a mangled body crushed you.  

You froze. The taste in your mouth burnt, your eyes stung but you didn’t dare to move.

The man you had come to know as GOR edged closer, blue and red lights softly illuminating a pained look on his face.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” his voice croaked.

He turned, slinking out of your sight. You heard a jangle of keys and then a slam.

_Was he gone..?_

You dragged yourself from under the broken body.

The dark blue liquid spread across your face like silk. It dripped from your hair into your hands which sat still in your lap.

_Fear._

Fear was all that remained of the nameless android who felt the  _need_  to save you, a  _‘machine’_  that admitted that they  _admired_  you. The fire that once burned in his eyes were now lifeless coals.

_Lifeless._

All the sounds around you became a dull buzz. Lights flashed, shoes stomped - it was all a spectrum of blurs. You couldn’t tear your gaze from the android who died for you.

Why would a machine try to protect you unless it was  _more than just a machine_?

You suddenly felt warmth in your stained hands.

“Hello, my name is Connor. I’m the android sent by Cyberlife.”

The voice came from the body of the hand that had reached into yours. Mustering all of your strength, you looked up; the voice belonged to an android. A chiselled, yet soft face was veiled half in shadow, with deep brown eyes so clear that you could see your own thirium drenched self within them.

“Do you feel as if you can stand?”


	10. BROKEN

The skies had once again become grey, threatening rain, foreshadowing a storm. Winds swept dust and litter from the streets into a dance alongside the trees, drawing your gaze to the familiar decrepit buildings they masked.

You remembered how Hank and Connor looked as you finished recalling your memory; the sunlight had turned orange, the music had concluded to a static, your audience had sunken into their seats, silent in words.

You remembered how two seconds later, Hank had slammed down on the assistance button demanding to be released immediately, and that Connor had already begun packing things to go.

Their eagerness made you smile to yourself - you were happy that your regained memories meant anything to them. You wanted to help, you wanted to not ever feel  _useless_ again.

Connor placed the vehicle in park, cranking the emergency brake. You let yourself out to assist Hank from the back, steadying him on to his feet as he attempted to stand.

He gave you a disgruntled glare as you placed a crutch in each of his hands “I don’t need these.”

“You do if you want to continue this investigation.” Connor reappeared after having visited the trunk, a bouquet in hand.

“Flowers?” You questioned, disbelief in your eyes.

“I bought these from the hospital,” he placed the flowers in your arms, letting their perfumed aura surround you “I researched that flowers are often considered a comforting gesture. I thought you might wish to mourn the android’s death.”

You looked up to find Connor’s eyes crinkled gently, a sweet smile forming on the corner of his lips.

The sight of him squeezed your chest - choked the air from your lungs.

“You suave little bugger.” Hank grinned as he stared at the arrangement “Good job.”

Connor adjusted his tie, a look of embarrassment spreading across his face.

“Lets get going.” Hank chuckled as he began limping his way towards your destination.

You tugged on Connor’s sleeve.

Feeling your heartbeat in your throat, you stood on the tips of your toes. You looked into the android’s curious brown eyes as he watched your movements, your gaze lingering just a little longer than  _‘socially-acceptable’_.

You smiled, pressing your lips against the top of his cheekbone.

“Thank you for the flowers.”

Connor blinked hard, bringing a hand to the spot you had just kissed.

“Shall we go?” You teased, bringing the soles of your shoes back to the ground.

_No response._

You lightly pulled his arm, his long legs stumbling forward. He blinked again, finally beginning to breathe.

“R-right.”

 ---

The three of you ventured towards the apartments; vermilion rays escaped the clouds and cast themselves upon the architecture, appearing like flames in the cracked bricks. Tiny dandelions had weeded themselves into the infrastructure’s breaks, breathing a small amount of life into the otherwise dead building.

You ascended the stairs, letting your fingers drag across the rotted wood rails; you traced along its grooves and marble, suddenly bumping into fingers that were not your own. You looked up to find Connor gazing over his shoulder at you, yellow dancing around his temple.

His hand grabbed yours, intertwining them. You could feel the warmth of his  _skin_ , the  _bone_  of this knuckles.

His LED hadn’t faded back to blue since your bold actions earlier.

_Should you not have…?_

“Fuck!” Hank grumbled as he tripped into a stair “Who the fuck put their goddamn secret lair on the goddamn eighth floor, with  _no elevator_? How in the fuck does this place still have working security cameras and  _no elevator_? When I catch that fucking prick I’m gonna-”

Connor let your hand go, placing it on Hank’s back.

“I offered my assistance four times, should I offer it a fifth?”

Hank rolled his eyes at the smug look growing across Connor’s face “So you’re just a complete smart ass now, huh?”

“Well, I do have a social module that enables me to-”

“Easily integrate with humans and work in a team  _whatever the fuck_.” Hank mocked “Why don’t you two just go back to holding hands?”

The surprised expression across your face gave you away instantly.

Hank gave you a quick look “You know what they say, that parents have eyes on the back of their heads.”

You thought back to the child themed towels at his house “Do you have children Hank?”

The Lieutenant froze, but only for a moment.

“Uh, yeah, I guess you didn’t know.” his voice was indecipherable “Used to have a son named Cole.”

_Used to..?_

You watched as the man continued to climb the stairs, catching small glimpses of grave eyes and thin lips.

You couldn’t bring yourself to ask what exactly he meant.

 ---

You arrived at the familiar scene that LED police tape had preserved. Your saviour remained splayed in the centre, broken, lifeless. Nothing had changed - e _xcept you_.

You knelt in front of the android. You took in the color of his hair, his eyes, his skin. You tried to notice every detail about him, engraving it into your mind so that you’d never forget who gave their life for you again.

_Did he accomplish his dream when he saved you?_

“You should give him a name.”

You looked back to find Connor standing beside you. He smiled.

“I bet it would make him happy.”

You placed the flowers down, whispering the name you thought perfect for him; it was a thanks, a goodbye, and a promise.

You would help make it so that  _this_  would never happen again.

_You would help catch GOR._

You stood, sniffling back tears before they could fall. Your voice was strong even though your knees felt weak “The door should be behind these boxes.”

Connor followed to where your finger pointed, the click of his shoes leading him to a tall stack of mouldy cardboard “Here?”

“You mean to tell me,” Hank hobbled over, a dumbfounded look obvious on his face “We had the whole DCPD here, and no one thought to move any boxes?  _Christ._ ”

You helped Connor clear the trash while Hank helped with commentary, revealing the metal door that haunted your memories. It’s handle had been warped unrecognizably.

Hank unsuccessfully tried the knob, moving on to his  _‘plan B’_.

“It… won’t… budge!” He rammed his shoulder into the door “You said you heard a piercing noise? What the hell did he do? It looks as if he melted the damn lock.”

“If we can’t get in, he wouldn’t have been able to enter either, right?” your eyes gazed hopefully at the distorted metal “There could be some evidence left in there!”

Hank ponderously scratched at his beard “Yeah, that’s true, but we need to find a way in first. Any ideas Con-”

Connor grabbed Hank’s gun firing a single bullet.

The door swung open.

“ _Connor_!” Hank picked his jaw up off the ground “What in the fuck are you doing? You could have killed us -  _what the fuck_  -”

“I preconstructed 53 scenarios, finding the perfect angle to destroy the lock and eliminate any chances of shrapnel or bullet bounce.” Connor returned the gun to its holster “I knew that your gun had enough power since your ‘police-issued 9mm’ is actually a .44 magnum - a bit excessive,  _don’t you think?_ ”

Hank patted the firearm as if he was unsure it had ever left at all “Who are you?  _Fucking Indiana Jones?_  I thought androids couldn’t use guns.”

“ _Deviants can_.” Connor smirked, walking past Hank and his gaping mouth into the now open room.

“Can you believe this guy…?” Hank muttered as you both followed after.

You set up a small lamp, its light recreating the scene from your flashback.

The room looked untouched since you last saw it; The bookshelf’s contents remained scattered across the floor, the desk still a clutter from your desperation. The only thing you noticed was missing was the blue glow of the limbs and biocomponents.

You began to search around - shuffling through papers, opening every drawer and exploring every nook.

“Isn’t this from your apartment?” Connor’s voice broke your concentration. He stood at the desk, holding up a familiar picture to you.

You squinted through the dim lighting.

_‘Rosewater Orphanage’_  was painted on wood in handwritten font, hung upon a gate.

It was the exact same as the picture you had at home.

“ _Why…?_ ” you grabbed the photo, a feeling of violation deep in your stomach “Was he watching us that day? Did he take it after we left?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if he was stalking you.” Hank spoke plainly, leafing through books “That android told you that GOR kept you for three days - Must’ve been feeding you, giving you water? Maybe he’s obsessed.” He paused, tapping a finger against his current page “Your name is even written in here like some kind of fucked up love note.”

You looked at the book in Hank’s hands. The writing was messy, disturbed. Among others was your name - carved into the paper, breaking its skin. The ink had spilt past each curve in every letter, bleeding into the next page, and the next.

“Here too,” Connor’s brow furrowed as he pulled multiple papers from the desk “all of these pages appear to contain the same list of 20 names, including yours and those three names we heard him whisper - Lina, Frank, Jon.”

Hank sighed “20 names… Could mean 20 victims.”

The light on Connor’s temple spun rapidly, deepening to a red. He shook his head in frustration.

“That doesn’t add up. I’ve just checked autopsy reports from the past  _ten years_ , and found nothing that matches the needle marks we’re seen so far. How is it that possible if there are 20 victims?”

“ _Found_ , Connor, that’s the key word.” Hank’s voice was firm “Who knows how long that sick fuck would have kept her if that android didn’t do something?”

“So you’re saying that those people on the list might still be alive after being exploited and held captive?”

“We don’t know if they’ve been exploited or not. Maybe they’re just dead, rotting somewhere - unlucky because they didn’t have someone to save them. We don’t even know if these are the names of victims.”

“What do we know then?” Connor’s knuckles grew taut, his voice grew irritated “20 possible lives on the line - and all we’re saying is that  _maybe_  they’re alive?  _Maybe_  they’ve been exploited? We need to know for sure.”

Hank placed the book down, slowly narrowing his eyes.

“You got a problem, son?”

The android took a deep breath, leaning himself against the desk “No, I’m sorry. I’m just worried we don’t have the resources to solve this case by ourselves. We could talk to Fowler-”

A bang echoed throughout the room, startling you against a shelf.

Hank’s fist had been slammed into the wall, blood threatening to draw from where his nails dug into his skin.

“I can’t risk this case going to someone else.”

Connors eyes searched the man, encouraging -  _pleading_.

“ _Why?_ ”

You shifted yourself further away from the tense atmosphere, afraid you’d make too much noise by merely blinking.

But the sound of a blink would be the  _least_  of your worries.

The shelf behind you crashed into the ground, the sound of breaking glass and metals acting as percussions echoing in its wake. You stood in the middle of floating papers and dust.

“Sorry…” you coughed, timidly wiping dirt from the fallen structure as if it would remedy your interruption.

Hank rolled his eyes, his voice more gentle than you had anticipated “You okay?”

You nodded a small yes while your eyes, too embarrassed to look at his, searched the wreckage.

You saw a leather bound book, its contents splayed open from your recent havoc. The writing was different from what else you had seen; it was neater, cursive -  _dated_.

“I think I found a diary.” You spoke, grateful to draw the attention elsewhere.

Connor pushed himself off the desk, maneuvering the mess to join you “Whose is it?”

“It doesn’t say.” You turned the book over, admiring it’s worn parchment. You flipped to the first page, Hank looking over your left shoulder and Connor over your right.

_June 5th, 2034  
_ _My family is dead. I want to die, but he won’t let me._

  
_June 7th, 2034  
_ _I don’t know how long I’ve been trapped in this basement. It’s a miracle I can even write. Yesterday, he stomped on my fingers - he laughed as he tried to break my arm. Why do I feel? I feel that if I don’t write, I’ll go insane. Maybe if I beg him, he’ll crush my skull instead._

  
_June, 2034  
_ _He thought it would be fun to make me smoke ‘red ice’. My insides hurt, like they’re bleeding, like I’m changing. IT HURTS. I can’t think. It hurts, it hurts. Why is this happening? Why did he kill my family? Why does he smile when he hurts me? At least it’s me and not them._

  
_June  
_ _It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts I don’t want to do it anymore why is he laughing at me I’m burning my insides are burning just let me die just let me die_

  
_Ju  
_ _I want to die I want to die I want to die I want to di e I wa n t_

  
_J_  
_G O R wh y d i d leav e me ?_  
_I ts you r fa u lt_  
_Ju s t kill m e  
_ _Jus t k i ll me_

 

Your throat felt dry.

You realized that  _in your hands_  likely sat the final words of one of GOR’s victims. The feeling dug itself deep into your chest, gnawing at your insides. That could have been  _you_. These words could have been  _yours_.

“ _This_ , Connor.”

Worn fingers reached over you, stealing the book.

Hank dangled the diary in the air a moment before stuffing it into his jacket “ _This_  is why I need to solve this case.”

His teeth were gritted, his words were bitter and cold.

“You know what the problem is? The thing that seems to connect so many of these crimes here in Detroit?”

Neither you nor Connor spoke.

“ _Red ice_.” Hank laughed as if it was a sadistic joke “Abuse, assault, murder - all common crimes of someone high on red ice. Not even just that anymore, we have a deviant who’s putting human blood in it - turning humans into fucking savages and killing them while they do it.”

His voice became serious, weight on his every word.

“I spent five years watching people  _ruin_  themselves with this powder, five years of watching people  _profit_  from addiction, five years of families  _breaking and dying._ ”

Cracks appeared in the wall of his hardened facade - a break in his guard, a splinter in his exterior.

“The problem has always been red ice. The Ortiz case, the Williams case, GOR, Cole…”

“Cole?” his son’s name slipped off your lips.

Hank paused.

“Three years ago he- ”

His breathing hitched, his body grew rigid.

The fissure on his armour continued to grow.

“We got into a car accident. He needed emergency surgery, but the only surgeon available was too high on red ice to do it. You should have seen him, the way his eyes rolled back, inhaling the  _fucking_  smoke with my son’s body laying less than two feet away.”

Connor placed a hand on Hank’s shoulder.

The Lieutenant didn’t refuse - he accepted it, settled into it.

“Cole always was so proud of me - bragging to other kids when he’d see me on the news. So proud of me for trying to put an end to red ice,”

Hank dropped his head, his voice escaping as a whisper.

“ _But red ice is what ended up killing him_.”

His words were a cataclysmic fracture,

a fatal breach.

“I thought,  _hey_ , if I catch GOR then maybe-”

His eyes met yours, a smile quivering on his lips.

“Maybe I’d have done something Cole could be proud of again.”

Hank’s facade finally came crashing down, three years of suppressed feelings stealing the strength from his legs. He crumbled to the ground, holding his face in his hands.

Your arms reached out, wrapping around the broken man, holding the pieces of him together.

“What the fuck are you doing-” Hank's voice cracked “ _Don’t-_ ”

You didn’t listen.

You held his shoulders as they began to silently shake, vowing to lend him your strength until he could gather back his own.


	11. FEELINGS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your support!! It's because of you that we've made it this far! <3

_Revenge._

One word, two syllables, seven letters, a finite definition.

You couldn’t seem to shake the word from your head.

A bed had never felt so comfortable; you sunk into its cotton, letting it ease your tired bones and weak muscles. Dull shades of neon sparkled from the ceiling - glow in the dark stickers, a relic from the past.

You glanced at the clock, eyes wide despite the ebony sky.

_12:20 am._

When you arrived back to Hank’s house, he silently led you past the kitchen, to the last room in the hall - to a room that hadn’t been used in three years.

He didn’t say anything as he cracked open its seal of dust, or as he changed the sheets. He wordlessly made the bed and fluffed the pillows, making the room perfect for you. It wasn’t until he reached his own room that he muttered a hushed ’ _goodnight kid_ ’ - You never thought a quiet voice could be so deafening.

The stickers created a galaxy above you - planets, moons, stars. You found yourself lost in how its gleam highlighted the kernels of the ceiling - creating shadow, light, and fantasies of faraway lands.

A quiet click, and a small sliver of fluorescents brought you back to earth; soft footsteps growing closer, one by one.

You recognized the lean figure as it loomed over you.

“Connor?”

He sat on the edge of the bed, depressing its springs. He was illuminated by the cosmos, his own blue glow adding to its brilliance.

Connor’s lips were parted. He spoke as if you were the only other person in this universe with him.

“Do you want to sneak out?”

—

The midnight wind was crisp, cooling your skin, reddening your cheeks.

Connor led you to a park; it was small, quiet - abandoned for the night. He stood by its river, overlooking the distant lights of the city’s heart.

“Are you cold?”

You looked over to find Connor’s eyes taking you in, analyzing your shivers.

“A little,” you smiled “but it’s okay.”

He begun taking off his jacket, placing it over your shoulders before you could start your protest.

You pulled at the sleeves, stealing the warmth that lingered “Are you sure I can wear this? I might take it for days again.”

“I’m sure.” Connor’s eyes crinkled as he grinned “Besides, I quite like the way you look in it.”

You felt bewitched by his charm, intoxicated by his scent.

“I used to despise deviants,” Connor leaned forward, resting his arms against the river’s railing “I’m not sure why exactly, it was probably a part of my programming. Ever since becoming sentient, I realized that deviants are rather  _commendable_. I-” he sighed, shaking his head “I’m still having difficulties understanding what I’m feeling.”

You placed a reassuring hand on his arm “Maybe I can help?”

“I was hoping you might say that.” His lips curled as he repaid the gesture “I’ve been…  _thinking_  a lot lately, about things unrelated to the case. The android from your memory who said that he admired you - what does it feel like to admire someone?”

You paused, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice “I suppose it’s a form of appreciation or approval. Like how you admire Hank for his detective skills.”

“So a feeling of respect?”

“Yeah, sort of.”

Connor bit his lip, gaze pensive “What I’m feeling - that doesn’t fully describe it.”

You shifted your weight, neglecting the bustling nightlife of the city and focusing solely on the android in front of you.

“Describe the feeling to me.”

“You say that like it’s an easy task.” Connor joked, turning to mirror you “I guess the best way to describe it is as an  _ache_.”

Your eyes widened in concern “It’s hurting you?”

“No- physically I am not sustaining any damage.” he glanced at the water crashing below “I feel admiration, but it is different than the way I regard Hank. Lately I feel an urgency -  _a longing_. I feel a pressure on my body as if someone was trying to access my biocomponents.”

“What are you longing for Connor?”

“I-”

You felt a tremble in Connor’s hand. He couldn’t answer.

“It’s okay not to know.” You comforted, rubbing your thumb against his skin “Even though I’ve had emotions my whole life, I still don’t know what I’m feeling half the time.”

You watched as the light spun on his temple. It was rapid, hypnotizing,  _red_. He finally spoke.

“Can I hug you?”

The request sent butterflies into your stomach. You gulped to keep them from flying out your throat.

“You don’t need to ask…” You stammered, a blush spreading across your face.

“Can you teach me,”

Connor closed the distance, his brown eyes pleading you.

“how to hold you properly?”

Your heart rate elevated to critical levels.

“Like this.” You placed your hands over his, sliding them over the curves of your sides. They rested on your waist as your arms circled around his neck.

“Like this?” His fingers dragged down to your hips, pulling you against his body.

You involuntarily grasped at his hair, feeling his every muscle pressed into you.

“That’s perfect.” Your voice was shaky, dizzy - the blood no longer in your head “You’re a professional now.”

Connor exerted his strength, his grip digging into your skin.

“But it’s  _not enough_ …”

You looked up from his chest, trying to understand what he meant. Connor’s brows were furrowed, his face twisted in pain.

“The closest definition is ‘ _choking_ ’. I feel like I can’t ‘ _breathe_ ’ - that I’ll shut down if I don’t-” his voice was raspy,  _troubled_  “if I can’t get any more of you.”

Strands of loose hair dangled over his desperate expression.

“What can I do to make the aching stop?”

Heat coursed throughout the entirety of you. You were on fire, melting where your bodies met. You knew what he needed - what  _you_  needed. You couldn’t control the demand about to escape from your mouth.

“ _Kiss me_.”

Y _ou_  couldn’t breathe, you could only  _wait_  for a response while your stomach tied itself into a billion knots.

Connor dipped his head towards yours - calculating, computing. You could see the freckles in his irises, every crease in his skin.

“May I?”

His voice was deep, husky - you’d never heard him like this before, but you loved it, wanted to drown in it. It was dangerous, threatened of addiction. You stared hungrily at his lips.

“Don’t make me beg…”

Connor leaned in, eyes half-mast. His breath was warm, sweet. Goosebumps trickled down your spine.

“I would never do that to you.”

Words could hardly describe the feeling of Connor’s mouth on yours - the way he tilted his head, inhaled you - how he memorized the shape of your lips with his own. He was delicious -  _so damn delicious_. You were tempted to devour him, to bite his bottom lip, to make him groan. You were starved. You wanted him. You needed him.

You broke away, afraid you might want more than what Connor could process - his jaw was clenched, his eyes heavy lidded. The hands grasping at your hips stopped you from going far.

“ _No_ -” he muttered crashing against your lips again. He gave into primal desire - he was wild, uncontrolled. Connor was hungry too.

You poured everything into the kiss, running your fingers up his chest into his hair - tugging, pulling at the chocolate strands.

You liked him. You loved him.

You loved Connor.

The sound of squealing tires brought you back to the park. You opened your eyes to the playground, the river, the bridge - and to Connor, who stood disheveled in your arms.

You buried your face into him, the craving inside of you still throbbing, still begging for his touch.

“Is the aching gone?” your lips felt swollen and your voice was still raw with lust.

You could feel a beating in his chest as you awaited his answer. He stroked your hair, gently twirling it around his fingers.

“ _Love_.”

Connor brought his hand to your jaw, tilting your gaze to meet his.

“I think the feeling is  _love_.”

You loved Connor,

and he loved you too.


	12. FREE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of your kind comments!! <3 I am so grateful to you! You fuel my little fanfic writing heart!

“So, when did the feeling first start?”

“That-” Connor mischievously grinned “that is a rather plain question. I could tell you the probability of alien life, the chemical compounds of anything you can imagine, or even a really good joke - but  _that_  is your question?”

“I only get one?” You teased, slapping a fraudulently offended hand against your chest.

Connor’s eyes narrowed “You could submit a request for additional questions if you’d like.”

“And who would I file my request to?”

“Cyberlife - would you like their contact information?”

You chuckled, swinging your legs as they dangled from the park bench. Although seconds, minutes, and hours continued to leave the past behind, you and Connor remained rooted in time. You sat close to him, basking in his warmth - you refused to bring up the idea of leaving this moment.

“I’m not changing my question,” you smiled “but tell me the joke first.”

Connor suddenly stood, hovering over you “I do know CPR, in case you start to die from laughter-”

“Oh, my god-”

“How come ants never get colds?” He crossed his arms, eagerly awaiting your response.

Your voice was facetious “Because the cold weather kills them before they can catch one.”

“Oh- I hadn’t considered that response a possibility…” Connor furrowed his brows “The answer was supposed to be ‘ _because they have little anty-bodies_.’”

You could feel your lips grow thin and your eyes begin to crinkle as you attempted not to laugh “That’s terrible.”

“That joke is not to your preference? What did the buffalo say as he dropped his kid off at school?”

“No-”

“ _Bison_.”

You sucked in a deep breath to keep the giggles from spilling out “Please  _stop_ \- just answer my original question.”

Connor smirked. He fully knew his effects on you.

“Well, to answer your question, when I took the trace sample from you neck, I also detected abnormally high levels of dopamine and norepinephrine - indications that you thought I was attractive.”

You groaned in embarrassment, your ears beginning to feel hot.

“I noticed I had an  _unusual_  thought process in that moment; what about me did you find attractive? Cyberlife made my looks to help assist in seamless human integration - but Hank never misses the chance to tell me I look  _goofy_.”

Connor gently pulled away the arms hiding your red-tinged face. He tilted his head at you, a playful expression across his features.

“You’re shy  _now_?”

You groaned again.

“I began to watch you closer, certainly more than necessary for the case. I began to feel that your company was quite  _pleasurable_ , and then I realized I was holding your hand more for  _my_  sake than for yours. But when you kissed my cheek, I-” he sat back down, abruptly ending his thoughts “I’m talking a lot about myself. I wish to learn more about you.”

You huffed at his hasty change of subject “Connor, surely your social module told you that it’s  _mean_  to leave someone hanging like that?”

“Oh, well-” his words turned into a laugh, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smile “It did, but I’ve grown somewhat good at ignoring it.”

When did Connor’s laugh become so effortless? Each small shake of his shoulders seemed to bubble up from his chest, heartfelt -  _happy_.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows against his knees “Since you seem to enjoy looking at me so much, perhaps you’d like to tell me  _exactly_  what you find so attractive?”

You crossed your arms “Were you always so sassy?”

“I think that being around Hank has had a positive influence on my sassiness.”

A scoff left your mouth “If you must know,” your hand reached towards his umber mane “I really like this hair.”

You traced down to his cheekbones.

“I like your eyes,”

Your finger worked its way to his lips.

“I like your smile,”

Connor frowned “You’re just listing everything.”

“I know.” You beamed, your hand finding its final destination on his chest “What I love the most is who you are - how you’re so caring and focused, how you’re sometimes horribly awkward,” you rolled your eyes “and I even love your terrible jokes.”

He grasped at your wrist, eyes wavering.

“I don’t know much, or really  _anything_  about loving someone. When I look up  _‘love’_  I see images of families and marriages - people growing old together, raising kids together. I can’t do that for you, but I want-” he paused, gaze searching “I want to be ‘ _selfish’_  - can I be selfish about this?”

His hand wove into yours, the pale color of his skin dissipating into a mechanical white.

“Is it  _selfish_  to ask you to love an android?”

You placed his hand in your lap, running your fingers across the pearlescent plates of his knuckles. Connor was so-

“ _Beautiful_.”

You thought aloud, Connor’s head snapping up in incredulity.

“Whether or not you are an android doesn’t change the fact that I love you - I have only ever thought of you as Connor, the  _person_  sitting next to me.”

“Am I really a person when I can easily be replaced?” His jaw was set, confliction evident in his red LED “There are more ‘Connors’ than just me - there is another RK800 model ready to download my memories and replace me at anytime.”

“Even if they can copy your memories, or look the same, they are not you.” You pointed to the serial number illuminated on his jacket “I don’t know much about androids, but I do know that this is  _your_  number - the only one in the world. I may not be numbered but you are just as much a person as me, you always have been. No one can replace you.”

“Is it okay for me to-” his voice cracked “can I believe that?”

Your voice was soft.

“That’s up to you to decide.”

You left behind your words of encouragement and walked toward the bridge. You felt yourself become hypnotized by the red glow of passing tail lights, entranced by the music and nightlife of the harbor. It wasn’t until the wind begun to bite at your cheeks that you became aware of the dress shoes echoing behind you.

“What will you do if I decide to be selfish?”

You spun around to see all of Connor’s uncertainty had been replaced with the same confidence he had when he kissed you. He stood tall, arms crossed over his broad chest. His eyes were full of fire, burning his gaze into you.

“You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing.” You gulped at his new-found resolve.

“When you kissed my cheek I felt your heat,” he walked towards you, tracing a finger under your jaw “I never understood what a craving was until then, I couldn’t understand the idea of my body acting on it’s own - it was like an unlisted process threatening to overtake my hands and have their way with you.”

Connor pressed against your mouth, taking your bottom lip in between his. You breathed into him, whimpering as he pulled away.

“I’m going start making my own decisions now.” He smiled at the dumbfounded look on your face. 

_You were completely, and utterly under his spell._

“The time is currently 3:52 am, my love.” Connor fixed the wind-blown strands of your hair “I think it would be wise for us to return to Hank’s house.”

“ _My love?_ ” You blinked hard, knees still weak.

“It is the term of endearment I’ve decided to use for you.”

“You’re taking this  _‘deciding for yourself’_  thing very seriously aren’t you?”

“I like it.”

He grabbed your hand, leading you out of the park.

“I feel  _free_.”

—

Connor was animated on the walk home, a boyish enthusiasm clear in his excitement. He concocted a detailed list of three things  _he_  had decided to try. First, he decided to cook Hank a proper dinner - especially eager at the prospect of seeing how many vegetables he could hide throughout the meal. Second, he was going to put laxatives in the coffee of a man named ‘Gavin’ - he assured you that this ‘Gavin’ was fully deserving of this punishment as he was, as Connor put, a  _‘shitty person’_.

Lastly, he decided he would take you on a date. He insisted that he follow ‘human traditions’ and take you out for dinner.

“There is a five-star restaurant close to here, do you like Italian?”

“Is there by any chance, a restaurant that serves blue blood?” you laughed already knowing the result “I don’t want to eat alone.”

Connor’s LED spun rapidly, halting to a yellow “No, I don’t think there is.”

“We could go on a picnic? Some human food for me, some android food for you?”

“A picnic it is, my love.” his frown disappeared into a smile.

Connor let go of your hand, producing a key from his pocket. He placed a finger over his mouth, signalling silence as he slid the silver into the lock.

The door swung open - a grumpy old man stood in sweats and slippers,  _‘tired’_ written across his face.

“What in the  _hell_  are you kids doing?”

Connor quickly lowered his finger, standing upright. He cleared his throat “Thank you for opening the door, we just arrived back from a stroll.”

Hank’s eyebrow was raised “A four hour  _stroll_ , eh?”

The Lieutenant gestured you and Connor inside the house, sitting you down at the kitchen table.

“I have a certain place I like to go to when I can’t sleep,” Hank started, sipping a cup of coffee “Imagine my surprise when I get there, and I see two  _familiar_ looking kids holding each other and kissing like the goddamn sky is falling.”

Hank produced a large box from the counter behind him, sliding it across the table to Connor as he took another swig.

“I got this for you. What a crazy world we’re living in - malls are open 24/7, just  _crazy_.”

Connor took the box into his hands, sliding his fingers across the elegant gold branding on its front. He looked up - lips parted, eyes wide “May I open it?”

Hank grumbled, lazily giving a thumbs up. He downed the rest of his caffeine, watching the android’s reaction from his peripherals.

Connor lifted the box’s lid, revealing a crisp leather jacket. He carefully released the material from its fold, letting the leather’s smoky smell fill the room. He attentively placed each arm in its respective hole, delicately adjusting the way the jacket fell from his shoulders.

It was a sleek black fitted racer jacket. It was simple, classy - appearing as if it had been made in Connor’s image. It fit perfectly.

“Fear, panic, happiness,  _love_ ,” Hank’s grin was lopsided “those are all human emotions.”

The old man stood, grabbing Connor’s Cyberlife jacket.

“Don’t wear this anymore. You’re not some goddamn product, so don’t dress like one.”

Connor’s stare refused to the leave the gift that adorned him “When did you have time to buy this? Was it after you saw us at the park?”

“First of all, I didn’t mean to spy on you.” Hank sighed “ Second, just enjoy the damn present, ok?”

Connor smiled wide, dimples deepening at the corners of his lips “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hank began walking back to his room, stopping to place a hand on your shoulder.

You looked up, catching a glimpse of blush behind the gruff of his beard.

He gave an affection squeeze.

“I’m glad it’s you.”

You had never thought a combination of those four words could make you feel the way that you did. You watched Hank’s back as he called Sumo for bed, retreating down the hall, disappearing with a slam. You were giddy, elated - unable to stop yourself from feeling a familial love towards the man.

“I think Hank thinks of you like a son.”

Connor finally looked up from the jacket, eyebrows raised in response to your statement “What makes you think that?”

“Just the way he treats you,” you walked closer admiring the look of leather against his lean frame “I can’t remember my own dad though, so it’s purely a hunch - I hope he was like Hank.”

Connor halted, his LED fading to red “There is something I’ve been meaning to apologize for,”

You watched as he clumsily shifted his weight, curling his hands into fists at his sides.

“I was curious about your past when you talked about your orphanage,” he started, avoiding your gaze “I am unsure if you didn’t wish to tell me, or if you were waiting until you felt comfortable, but I wanted to give my condolences. I didn’t intend to pry.”

You jerked your head, confusion knitting through your eyebrows “What are you talking about?”

Connor mirrored your reaction “I’m referring about what happened to Rosewater Orphanage.”

You suddenly felt numb.

“What?”

“ _You don’t know?_ ” Connor’s voice was as perturbed as you felt “Police records confirm that a family liaison officer delivered the news to you.”

“What news was delivered to me?” Your question was a demand “Tell me what happened.”

“You really don’t know…?” his tone became concerned “The orphanage suffered a mass murder four years ago.”

You froze, muscles tensed under Connor’s unblinking stare - you felt like you  _had_  heard this before. 

“The bodies of three adults, presumably the staff, and multiple children, the orphans, were found disfigured beyond recognition.”

“Only three staff…? That doesn’t make sense.” Your mouth felt dry, brain unresponsive “Did they catch who did it?”

“A suspect was never found-”

“How many children did they find?”

“I don’t think-”

“How many children!” You shrieked, not meaning to take whatever was happening to you out on Connor. You couldn’t control yourself or the violent feeling stirring within you - a crimson-eyed monster threatened to crawl into your brain, to grope at your skull, to scratch at your nerves.

“I know we just had a real touching moment back there, but do you think you could keep it the fuck-” Hank’s voice echoed from behind you, breaking as your vision became blurry “What’s going on?” you felt him rush to your side, holding your shaking arms steady.

Connor spoke through clenched teeth. He began deciphering your questions - understanding your fear.

“19 children were found…”

The significance of his answer burrowed into your chest, broke the monster’s chains, unlocked his cage.

“Was  _his_  body found?”

The room grew still, silence taking the form of a pressure - it was heavy, crushing. You thought you might die if Connor didn’t respond.

“No, the body of an android-  _Tim_  was never mentioned in the official police report.”

The last piece of the puzzle clicked.

Connor knew,

_You knew._

Your tears became chokes of repulsive realization. The bliss of your childhood had been shattered - it’s limbs ripped apart, it’s blood drained.

Your legs collapsed under you, falling into Hank.

The floor was cold and hard, but Hank didn’t move. You sat cradled in his arms, angrily sobbing into his shoulder. You could feel the deep rumble of his voice as he spoke.

“20 names on the lists, 20 possible victims.” 

“19 unidentified victims, 19 children found.” Connor continued.

“One missing android, one deviant killer on the loose.”

You straightened your back, indignantly wiping away your tears.

Your smile was bitter.

“Guess we just found out who GOR is.”


	13. MORE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the long wait!!! :'( I really hope you enjoy!
> 
> Shout outs to my dear friend Autumnfrore for being such a great help and amazing person <3 (also you should probably thank her if you like the ending of this chapter, because she's the one who convinced for me to do it)

_“Stupid… It’s so unfair.”_

_You kicked a bucket of clothes over, spilling it’s folded contents into disarray. You wanted to step on the cotton, to take your angst out on it - why wouldn’t George let you take the car to Detroit? You couldn’t understand._

_You sighed, picking up the fabric - the clothes hadn’t done anything to incur your wrath._

_“Is something wrong?”_

_Tim hovered over you, his hazel eyes peering into yours._

_“George wouldn’t let me drive to Detroit.” You sighed again, refolding a shirt with a snap of your wrist “I’m so bored here. There’s no one my age - this place just sucks.”_

_“Detroit can be a dangerous place for a young lady like you.” Tim’s voice was as silky as always, honey dripping from his Illinois accent “George isn’t doing it to be mean.”_

_“You only say that ‘cause you can do whatever you want.”_

_Tim’s face scrunched into a lopsided grin “Since when did androids get to do whatever they wanted? Did I miss a memo somewhere?”_

_“No,” You glanced down to the floor, embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”_

_Tim gave you a gentle pat on the head, ruffling your hair “It’s okay, I know it’s easy to forget I’m not human - but nevermind that, I’ve got a plan.”_

_Your curiosity was piqued._

_“How about I tell George I need to go do some shopping in Detroit - you sneak along, we take five dollars from the swear jar, and get you some ice cream- you in?”_

_“I’m pretty sure that those are all of my quarters though.”_

_Tim rolled his eyes “You in? Or are you in?”_

_You smiled._

_“I’m in.”_

—

“A nightmare?” Hank’s voice roused you from sleep.

“A memory,” You groaned, removing your cheek from the car window.

The drive to Rosewater was a long five hours. The orphanage was located on the outskirts of Geneva in Illinois - a place you hadn’t been to since you had left it.

A morbid gut instinct told you that Tim would be there. The Detroit police had sealed off the warehouse and apartments, yet you had overheard Hank talking about about how cases of the contaminated red ice continued to pour in.

The orphanage was the best lead - the _only_ lead.

Hank glanced over his shoulder, noticing your grim expression.

“Reach into the seat pocket behind Connor.”

You nodded, stealing a quick look at the brown haired man in the passenger seat. His eyes were closed.

“Is Connor okay?” you questioned “Can androids sleep?”

Hank grumbled, gaze now focused on the road ahead “Said something about sending a report to Cyberlife.”

“ _Um_?” your voice was skeptical “Won’t they be able to tell he’s… _you know_?”

“I asked the same thing, but he said that he had the situation” Hank mimicked Connor’s voice “‘ _under control_ ’. Now reach into that damn pocket will ya?”

You nodded again, this time obliging. Your hand fought through napkins and wrappers finding a rectangular object.

It was a Nintendo 3DS.

You quickly looked up at Hank and back down to the gaming system. You clicked the power button, eagerly anticipating what game would load.

“ _Animal crossing_?” you gasped aloud, but Hank didn’t indulge.

On the screen, a small dog welcomed you back to _Sumoville_. Your character was named-

You smiled.

_Mayor Cole._

“Was this your son’s?” You asked, exploring the well furnished virtual home.

“It’s mine.” Hank responded this time, voice strict “This information does _not_ leave the car, you understand? I just thought that if you had that scowl on any longer, it’d be permanently engraved into your face.”

“I promise to keep your secret.” you beamed, suddenly surprised by Hank’s arm extending back.

“Cole used to make me do this,” his little finger reached towards you “a pinky promise he called it.”

You paused, looking in awe at his hand. Warmth spread throughout your chest, filling a deep hole that had been empty since birth.

“Ah, shit, I’m treating you like a kid- forget it-” Hank tried to take back his gesture, red subtly creeping up the tips of his ears.

You grabbed his hand, tightly wrapping your pinky around his.

“No!” you spoke bashfully “It’s not! I just- I never had the chance to do stuff like this before - _it’s nice._  I pinky promise to keep your secret!”

“Okay already!” Hank stammered, pulling free of your grip “Don’t get us into a damn car crash.”

“You started it!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He casually drummed his fingers against the wheel, seemingly embarrassed “So, how are you feeling about the whole Tim thing?”

Your hands hovered over the buttons of the 3DS.

_How did you feel?_

“I don’t know how I feel about a lot of things these days,” you started “I still feel that I should be more shocked, more upset. Truthfully, I guess I just feel really _alone_.”

Hank was silent and you were grateful for it. You stared out the window, processing your feelings. It felt selfish to dwell on your own misfortune, but the black hole in your heart refused to subside - it was sucking you in, making you feel numb.

“Kid,”

Hank’s soft voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“Whether you like it or not, you’re stuck with us now.”

You gulped hard “What do you mean?”

Hank turned the car, headlights faintly illuminating ‘ _Welcome to Geneva_ ’ through the darkness of the night.

“I mean that after all of this GOR business is over with, you’re free to stay with me and Connor.”

Hank glanced at you through the rearview mirror.

“For three years I hadn’t opened Cole’s room. I trapped him and my feelings inside there- and it’s just that, uh,” He nodded to himself, a small smile spreading across his face  “I think Cole would be happy if you got some use outta his old room. Connor would be happy too, and me, _I guess_ -”

“Hank, I-” you struggled to find the words matching your feelings. You wanted _more than anything_ to accept his offer, to jump up and down screaming yes - but were you _allowed_ to feel this way? Was it okay for an orphan like you to find a ‘ _home’_ in Hank and Connor?

“Nobody is forcing you.” he interrupted “I’m not asking you to replace Cole - but you’re part of the family now in your own way. Think about it-”

You arms wrapped around Hank from the backseat.

“ _Thank you…_ ” you spoke, although the two words could just barely convey the multitude of what you felt. Hank seemed to understand, giving your hand a few light pats.

“It feels as if you’ve hugged Hank more than me lately,”

You looked to the passenger’s side where Connor’s eyes were open and on you. He playfully pouted, crossing his arms over his chest “is this what jealousy feels like?”

“I _am_ the better looking one.” Hank smirked “Welcome back. How’d the Cyberlife thing go?”

Connor’s gaze narrowed “It went well. I don’t think that they suspect anything.”

“Good.” Hank didn’t ask anymore as he pulled the car into a motel “We’ll be staying here for the night.”

—

The motel wasn’t something you recognized from your childhood; it was simple, modern - vastly different from the preserved 1900’s architecture known of Geneva. Blue glowed from strips of light that ran alongside the cubistic building, matching the incandescent room numbers on the doors.

You walked with Hank to the motel lobby; an android stood dressed in fashion resembling the building’s aesthetic, a bright smile across her face “Welcome. What may I help you with today?”

“Two adjacent rooms, please.” Hank asked, leaning against the counter.

“Of course. I will need two pieces of ID, one from each human over 18 years of age.”

You slid your ID beside Hanks. The attendant’s fingers dangled over them, pausing atop yours. Yellow spun from her temple.

“Welcome back Miss, have you come to collect your belongings from your last visit?”

“I don’t- I haven’t been here before.” you tilted your head in confusion “Are you mixing me up with someone else?”

Connor stepped in front of you, LED blinking in rhythm with the attendant’s. He grabbed her arm, skin fading into white where they touched.

His brows furrowed at the results. 

“You were here, 12 days ago. You rented room 23, but never returned after leaving in the afternoon.” he released the android “Did you visit the orphanage by yourself?”

You closed your eyes in frustration. You were such a _mess_ \- one problem after another, one missing memory after another.

“I don’t know.” you replied - now an overused saying of yours “Maybe if I see it, I’ll be able to remember something.”

The attendant left, reappearing with _your_  backpack. 

You were tired of forgetting - you would _force_ yourself to remember.

You thanked her, stepping outside - barely waiting a second before tearing into the bag, taking your annoyance out on its zipper.

“My love,” Connor whispered, his warm hands stopping you “I think it would be best if we took a small break from the investigation tonight.”

“What?” You looked up, hair wild across your face.

“He’s right.” Hank appeared from behind, two key cards in hand “Rest tonight, watch TV, order some food if you want - but that’s an order from a cop. Okay?”

You sighed “I’m just so tired of not being able to remember - just _constant_ roadblocks. I could have been Tim’s _accomplice_ for all I know!”

“My love,” Connor repeated, softer this time - his fingers tightening around yours. “you know that isn’t true.”

You felt your shoulders drop, anger disappearing.

“Room 10 kid.” Hank grabbed the bag, handing you one of the cards “Go take a long shower. We’ll be next door if you need us.”

—

A shower did refresh you, even if only a little.

You hadn’t moved from the bed ever since, mindlessly watching TV, still warm despite only wearing a towel.

_“Red ice; named after its appearance. It is known to induce rage and mental instability in its users - and now is creating instability in the United States of America. This is CTN TV, with all the current news on street crime, and your scoop on the latest drug terrorizing America.”_

_“Thank you for that opening, Dave. The introduction of androids into the workplace has created a significant impact on the economy. Unemployment is at an all time low, leaving humans unsatisfied and turning to red ice for an escape from reality - but can it really be called that? It has been reported that over 97% of people that smoke red ice experience extreme symptoms of anger, often leading to cases of violence and assault-”_

A small beep rang from your door, the sound of a turning handle in its wake.

“I noticed you weren’t sleeping yet, I hope that Hank’s drunken snore isn’t keeping-” Connor walked in, freezing as he saw you.

“TV off.” You commanded, tucking the towel tighter around yourself. “It’s okay, come in. I was just watching some news.”

“I can return at a later time…”

“Hurry! you’re letting the cold air in!”

Connor cleared his throat, hastily shutting the door behind him “We have a robe in our room if you would like to use it.”

“Is the towel bothering you?”

“Well it is certainly _distracting_ me.”

You patted the spot next to you, gesturing him to join. He reluctantly approached.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” he spoke dryly, knuckles tight, fingers grasping at his jeans as he sat. His whole body was rigid, eyes forward, jaw locked into place.

“Is the towel that uncomfortable? I just thought since you’ve seen me before- I’m sorry, I’ll go change…” you mumbled self-consciously, rising from the bed.

“No-” Connor reached for your arm “I believe you’re misinterpreting my actions. I am restraining myself.”

“ _Restraining?_ ”

“What I spoke about before.” his voice was laboured “The ache.”

“Ache? You can kiss me whenever you want. I thought you were going to start being selfish?”  

“I want to be, but if I kiss you right now-”

Connor’s hands cautiously reached towards the towel’s hem. He brought his gaze to your figure, mouth parting in thirst.

“I’ll want even _more_.”

Fingers traced up your leg - brushing against the inside of your thigh.

You throbbed, swelled - your body pleaded for his touch.

“Then kiss me,” you begged, his eyes wavering in response. 

“Do you understand what you’re asking me?”

You leaned forward, softly pressing your mouth against his.

“I know exactly what I’m asking you.”

Connor inhaled sharply, breathing you in, hands grasping at your skin. His shoulders squared - posture straightened.

And then he kissed you again.

He kissed you deep and _hungry_. You groaned as his tongue found yours, shuddered as he bit your lip. You felt him grin as a gasp escaped you.

Lust pounded throughout your chest, pulsated between your legs. You wanted him on you, against you - _in_ you.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” He whispered between kisses, his grip dipping under the towel. He pressed into the skin of your bare hips, lifting you, straddling you across his lap. You greedily pressed your body against his, back arching into the feeling of his lips against your collarbone.

All you could think about was the maddening pressure building inside you - how it threatened to drive you insane if Connor didn’t relieve it, if he didn’t save you.

You craved him, needed him.

You let the towel drop to the floor.


	14. DESIRE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** SMUT WARNING! **   
> If you are uncomfortable with smut, please skip ahead to chapter 15 - you will not miss any plot!

_Vulnerable._

Vulnerability describes the feeling you get when Connor looks at your naked body - how his eyes scan over your every curve, how he freezes for just a moment before telling you that you’re gorgeous. He kisses the stitches on your hand, tells you that you’re the most perfect thing he’s ever seen - and you can’t speak - you can only reach up, breathing him in like air. Fingers fumble the buttons of his shirt, and you rip it off - but not fast enough.

Desperately, your hands find Connor’s bare chest. He lays you against the mattress, softly stroking your hair before removing the tie you had missed. You grasp for the buckle of his belt, but he whispers “ _not yet_ ” between kissing down your stomach - sucking and pulling at your skin. He’s drinking you in, devouring you. He stops at each scar, each dimple, adoring them - spending his time making you feel precious.

And you love it.

You love the way his weight pressed on top of you makes you feel complete. You love how he smiles into you, enjoys you, and the feeling of his tongue as his head dips between your legs.

Your body gives in to Connor. It responds to him, fires at his touch. You can’t control the gratification riding throughout you, and he knows - this is what he wanted, what he told you he ached for.

But now  _you’re_  aching, needing more than what his lips and fingers can provide.

You grab at his pants again, and this time he doesn’t stop you - instead he helps. One hand works the belt, while the other props himself over you. He looks into your eyes,

and you’re the only person in his world.

Your hips arch up. He groans at the feeling of you - arms buckle at the way you’re grinding against him.

“ _Connor,_ ” you sigh.

He knows what you want by the way you say his name.

“Are you sure?” He asks again.

_Precautions, manners._

You press harder into him.

You both know that  _this_  isn’t enough.

His fingers drag across your thighs, pull at you like he wants to be even closer. All you can feel is  _him_  and the heat of where your bodies touch. The pressure inside you is building with each throb, each uncontrollable pulse. It threatens to consume you, to take over you - but you need _more_ , just a bit more - and then he enters you.

And he feels right.

Connor feels so perfectly  _right._

Your hips meet his - and he gasps as if he had been drowning until now.

He pauses, feeling you, watching the way bliss is written across your face. Your fingers sink into his back as he begins to move - as he becomes greedy.

Everything around you ceases to exist.

Your legs wrap around him, and he thrusts deeper. He kisses your neck, your jaw, your lips - but you can hardly comprehend anything other than the knot of tension between your legs and how it is seconds away from shattering.

You feel close - so dangerously close to losing yourself.

One more push would be all it takes.

One more push to take you away.

Connor doesn’t relent- he can feel the way you tighten around him, he can feel the flames inside you. He wants to push you over the edge - he wants to make you scream his name, to make your nails dig into him.

Pleasure soars through your body - releases, explodes. You tremble, moaning into the hand Connor has placed over your mouth. Euphoria intoxicates you - courses through every vein, every artery.  

Everything around you ceases to exist.

Everything but Connor and you.

—

_“Fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars. Let me see what spring is like-”_

You groaned, the soft melody rousing you from sleep.

_“On Jupiter and Mars…”_

Everything was a haze of warmth and ecstasy. You felt a pleasant tingle in your legs, a weakness in your muscles.

_“In other words, hold my hand…”_

Fingers danced along the skin of your back, tapping with each word.

_“In other words, baby, kiss me…”_

Lips pressed to your forehead.

“How much longer are you going to pretend to be asleep?”

You forced your eyes open, surprised this happiness wasn’t a dream. You were cradled in Connor’s arms, head against his broad chest. His eyes were on you, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“It is 7 am, my love. Hank will wake up soon.”

“Don’t stop singing…” You murmured, reaching up, tucking a strand of rebel hair behind his ear.

“Okay,” He chuckled before continuing,  _“Fill my heart with song and let me sing forever more. You are all I long for, all I worship and adore…_ ”

He smiled as he sung. His voice soothed you, brought you to a peace you had never known.

_“In other words, please be true.”_

Your heart felt full.

_“In other words,”_

So full it might overflow.

_“I love you.”_


	15. DETAILS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your support!! I love reading your comments! <3 THEY MAKE ME SO HAPPY :'D
> 
> Last chapter before the storm!

_“Detroit is so big!” You gasped, eyes wide. **  
**_

_Everything glowed neon above you - malls as big as skyscrapers, rails reaching so tall it seemed as if the trains flew through the clouds._

_“Makes it easy to get lost, huh?” Tim squeezed your arm. “Stick with me okay?”_

_“Mhm!” You chirped, breathing in the sights and smells as if your life depended on it._

_The sounds of street performers mixed with the chaotic noises of politics, store chimes, and chatter. For once, you felt so alive, so exhilarated._

_You loved the city, loved how people would run around with their coffee cups spilling, how they would smile and swear - had places to be, family to visit._

_If you lived here - in a sleepless city with bustling people - would it make you feel less alone?_

_Would you have things to do?_

_People to visit?_

_A strange heat began forming in your eyes._

_“Tim,” your voice wavered, “do you ever think I could live in a place like this?”_

_“What do you mean?” He led you to a bench overlooking a fountain._

_You bit your lip. “I don’t think I’m going to be adopted.”_

_“Hey, now,” Tim’s expression grew sad, “why would you say that?”_

_“I’ve watched so many kids come and go.” You breathed deeply. “I’m not dumb. I know that no one wants me, I’m worthless.”_

_Tim pulled your head to his shoulder, letting you hide the tears threatening to fall._

_“You can’t base your value off others - those people who don’t want to adopt you are all idiots. They’re nervous of how smart you are, how much talent you possess.”_

_You sniffled into his sleeve, “Ugh, you’re so full of crap - but thank you.”_

_“I’m not just saying things.” Tim laughed, stroking your hair. “I’m not programed to be inefficient, why would I waste time lying?”_

_You sat up, rubbing your eyes. “I guess I’ll believe you.”_

_“And you know,” Tim smiled at you, gaze sparkling - full of hope. “If you want to live in Detroit one day, I believe that you will.”_

—

“Clothes,”

“Money - in cash,”

“And a cellphone.”

The three of you stood in Hanks room, over the scattered contents of the black bag.

You had steeled your emotions, focused your mind. You weren’t a police officer. You had no training on offense, defense, or investigation - but you were no longer a girl who would hide while others protected you.

Today you would visit the graves of children and your family.

Today you would hunt for GOR - you would find Tim.

But first, you needed to understand why you were at this motel before - to connect the last piece of the missing memories.  _Or, at least attempt to._

“Clothes makes sense, you obviously planned to stay in Geneva for a few days,” Hank mumbled, crossing his arms.

“Not the cash though.” Your eyes narrowed. “I never carry cash - I’m always broke. There must be at least 500 here.”

“525 dollars,” Connor corrected. “But nothing appears to be suspicious about their serial numbers - no correlation of where the bills came from.”

“The cellphone though…”  Hank’s gaze rested on the device. “Gotta be something here.”

You watched as Connor grabbed the phone, hand fading to white. The screen booted up at his touch, prompting a password.

“4678,” You spoke without hesitation - it was a number you could never forget.

Connor’s eyes shifted to you, head tilted. “ _4678_ … What is the significance of these numbers?”

You blinked hard, caught off guard by the question.

_Why did he want to know?_

“Well it’s George, Ophelia, Richard, Tim. The first letter of their names in T9.”

“G, O, R…” his LED blinked yellow. “…T?”

“ _Shit._ ” Hank shook his head. “It was so fuckin’ simple it pisses me off. He made an alias out of the people he killed?”

Your lips grew thin.

This whole time, you secretly wanted to believe in Tim and your childhood memories of him - but the evidence was damning. It continued to pile up - started to make you feel numb to Tim and who he  _used_  to be.

“Apparently.” You choked back your building disgust and stuffed it deep into your stomach. “Any clues on the phone?”

“Two messages,” Connor offered you a look at the screen. “From an android.”

You squinted at the pixelated font.

_(2) New messages (15 d ago): (01-16-400) 089-567-888._

“This isn’t even a proper phone number, how could I have received texts from it? How do you know it’s an android?”

“Androids don’t communicate using hand-held devices. We contain a radio transmitter and receiver within our audio biocomponents that allow us to communicate with each other as well as other electronic devices via data packets and electrical signals, but because it is apart of our OS-”

“Connor.  _Please_.” Hank interrupted, sighing exasperatedly “Simple.”

“My apologies.” Connor rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Androids have cell phones built into their ears, but because they are a part of our bodies, we don’t have normal phone numbers - instead we use our serial numbers.”

You grimaced. “So this is probably Tim’s serial number?”

“The prefix of numbers  _‘01-16-400’_  do indicate an AP400 model.”

“The same model as the one who left the handprint on her neck… Yeah, that sounds about right.” Hank rose from the motel carpet, pacing around the room. “Alright, what do those texts say?”

You pressed on the screen, revealing only symbols and binary.

“They don’t say  _anything_.” Connor’s voice grew irritated as he tried to access the messages. “I don’t detect any malfunctions in the phone. The data packet must have been corrupted before it even sent - it would take days to decrypt this.”

“Of course, why would it ever be easy?” Hank grumbled, pulling a beer from the room’s mini fridge.

“A beer?” Connor was skeptical “Really Hank? It is currently 9:02 in the morning…”

“Shut up. It helps me think.”

“Pass me one?” you asked, receiving an even more incredulous look - you had never seen Connor’s eyebrows raised so high.

“That’s my girl!” Hank laughed, tossing a can in your direction.

You gave Connor a quick smile before popping the tab and sucking back the bubbles. Its bitter carbon snapped at your throat, working the gears in your brain, forcing you to think.

“Okay, so we know I had contact with Tim before I came to Geneva. The message was from 15 days ago, and I checked in to this motel 12 days ago, right? Is that all we’ve learned?”

“No, there is something else as well…” Connor shook away his shocked expression, taking on a serious tone. “Tim must have already been damaged when he sent these messages. Do either of you remember how Tim looked when we saw him at the abandoned warehouse?”

“That’s a no from me.” Hank gulped down the last of his drink. “I kind of fucking tripped and knocked myself out, just in case anyone forgot.”

Your shoulders rattled from holding in laughter.

Hank glared.

“It’s not funny, not at all,” you sputtered, before regaining your composure. “I can remember, but it’s blurry.”

“I’ll draw it.” Connor stood, grabbing a small notepad and pen from the room’s desk. All you could hear was a flurry of scribbles before he returned 30 seconds later.

“ _Wow_ ,” You and Hank spoke in unison, nodding in appreciation of the artwork. Connor’s  _‘scribble’_  was worthy to hang in  _The Louvre_.

“It’s a masterpiece, isn’t it?” You looked in awe.

Hank pompously moved a hand to his mouth, taking on a pretentious tone. “Doesn’t it invoke a feeling of sadness? That’s what I’m getting from it.”

“Yes… Quite.”

“Mmm.”

Connor sighed, “No- the details, look at the details!” he pointed vigorously. “The jaw! Look at the way it’s slacked!”

You looked closely at the picture, piecing it together with what you could remember about the encounter.

“That’s right, his jaw looked stretched…”

“Yes,” Connor straightened out his leather jacket. “I’ll try to spare you the complex explanation this time Hank, but as I’ve said before, androids are made in the same anatomy as humans. There is a joint that connects the jaw to the ear - stretching out the jaw would cause system errors to the audio biocomponent - to his transmitter - effectively corrupting any outgoing data packets and signals.”

Hank leaned against the wall. “So, you’re saying his jaw was fucked before he sent the messages and that’s why they were damaged?”

You frowned. “But that could have happened when he murdered everyone in the orphanage - they would have fought back.”

“Androids are both faster and stronger than humans.” Connor’s voice was grave. “From the picture I’ve seen, no one looked physically able to even  _dent_  him without a gun, and there was no evidence - from the way his jaw looked or the police records of the incident - that a gun was ever involved.”

“Get to the point, kid.” Hank’s gaze sharpened.

Connor sat on the edge of the bed, resting both his hand between his legs.

“Something isn’t…  _making sense_. The android from your memory said he was the only android Tim ‘ _kept around_ ’. I think it is safe to assume that the rest of the androids were disassembled like the one we saw in the warehouse. What I’m concerned about is  _who_  made Tim’s face look like that. An extreme amount of force must have been exerted.”

“Could that be why he was talking about revenge?” you added. “He said something about taking revenge out on someone when he broke that android.”

“You think there’s someone else involved?” Hank’s curiosity piqued.

“Someone strong enough to damage him to the point that he would want to retaliate?” Your brain hurt from all the information, all the new ideas. “Could someone have taken revenge on Tim for what he did to the orphans?”

The room fell silent.

Your head was spiraling - you felt dizzy, sick. 

_GOR, Tim, murder, red ice, thirium, blood…_

_Revenge._

_And now something - or someone else._

“ _Fuck!_ ” Connor swore, breaking the pen in his hand. “I don’t know…!”

Hank pushed himself off the wall, reaching into his pocket.

“Only one way to find out, kid.”

The jangle of his keys echoed throughout the room.

“Lets go ask the bastard ourselves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor: “Fuck!"
> 
> Hank: *Shifty eyes* "He did NOT learn that word from me."


	16. RETURN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH FOR ALL YOUR COMMENTS, KUDOS, AND BOOKMARKS!! <3
> 
> A Connor POV of "Save me" will be happening after the fic finishes! I look forward to writing it for you!! 
> 
> ** DISTURBING CONTENT WARNING ** Read at your own discretion!

_“Knock, knock.”  
_

_“Who’s there?” You replied, untying your apron._

_“Just me.” Tim opened the door, a grin wide across his face. “I know you said you didn’t want any presents for your birthday, but I couldn’t help it.”_

_“Tim!” A smile broke through your pretend pout as you hopped on your bed, sitting crossed legged. “Thank you.”_

_He sat down beside you, handing you a small card. “It’s not everyday you turn 18.”_

_You glanced at Tim once more before carefully opening the envelope. The card itself appeared to be handmade; it was construction paper full of scribbles you weren’t exactly sure what of - but you thought you saw at least a dog and cat._

_“Did you draw this?” You asked, giggling._

_Tim playfully rolled his eyes, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m good at housework, not drawing.”_

_You laughed again, taking your time to admire the work he had put into the card before opening it._

_Sparkles, and a neat bundle of 100 dollar bills fell out, resting on your lap._

_“You’ve been working so hard since we had that talk of moving to Detroit.” Tim placed a comforting hand on your back, gently rubbing. “I knew you were really close to what you needed - and I wanted to help.”_

_You opened your mouth, words refusing to come. “How-” You looked up, back down, and then up again. “How did you-?”_

_He pointed to his temple. “It’s pretty easy to pass for a human when you don’t have an LED. I took on a few graveyard shifts, labour jobs - I don’t have to sleep like you do.”_

_You shoulders began to shake, your eyes feeling hot._

_“Tim- I can’t- I don’t- I don’t know what to say or how to repay you-”_

_“Then don’t say anything.” He grinned again, wiping a tear from your cheek. “Follow your dreams - move to Detroit. That’s all I need.”_

—

Deep breath in.

You looked at the orphanage in the distance - how its deteriorating cobblestones begged you to walk down them - begged you to return to the past.

Connor’s fingers reached back from the passenger seat and intertwined themselves with yours.

“Does my hand still calm you,” He smiled, “my love?”

You saw Hank grinning in the rearview mirror. “That’s cute and all, but stop. I still have trauma from seeing you two making out.”

“From when you spied on us at the park?”

“For the last time, I was  _not_  spying!”

You smirked at their banter, gaze still lingering on your childhood home.

The moment you stepped out of this car you would be forced to remember what you had tried so desperately to forget. Your childhood, the massacre, Tim -  _the old Tim_ , the new GOR. You would have to face it all - but you wouldn’t be alone.

You had Hank, and you had Connor.

You finally let out a deep breath, a bright smile spreading across your face. “What’s the plan?”

“Uh,” Hank froze, caught off guard from your sudden enthusiasm. “Well, what  _is_  the plan Connor?”

Connor folded his arms across his chest. “We came here because it was our only lead - we don’t know if Tim is actually at the orphanage, but we should proceed as if he is.” He faced you. “Can you remember the layout of the building?”

You closed your eyes, trying to visualize your childhood home. The memories came easily.

You remembered the orphanage well - every room, every nook and cranny -  _every secret_. If Tim was hiding, you would find him.

“The building is three stories tall with two basements.” You started, speaking confidently. “The main floor is the living room and dining area, everything upstairs is bedrooms, washrooms, and offices. The first basement is the kitchen, and very bottom is laundry.”

Connor nodded, eyes crinkled. “Very thorough. You never cease to amaze.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Hank turned from the driver’s seat ruffling your hair, before leaning forward on the wheel. “Huge ass orphanage though. What if he escapes before we find him?”

“Tim is badly damaged - combined with the fact that he’s an outdated model means there is a high probability we can sneak up on him so long as we stay quiet.” Connor answered.

“Tactical espionage.” A mischievous look spread across Hank’s face. “I like it.”

Connor’s gaze narrowed for a moment as he gave Hank a  _look_. ”I propose we go to the kitchen first.”

“You think he’s cooking red ice in an orphanage where he murdered children?” Hank grimaced. “Seems about right.”

“The blood red ice never stopped circulating even after authorities took control of the warehouse and apartments.” Connor brought a fist to his mouth, expression pensive. “Making red ice would be simple for an android - basic chemistry, like making acetaminophen - aspirin. Other than ingredients-”

“Oh, he’s got plenty of those.” Hank coughed.

“Other than ingredients,” Connor ignored the remark, “All he would need is a vent and a heat source.”

“A vent…?” You bit your lip. “Why?”

“An organic solvent is needed in order to dissolve all the ingredients - a common one is gasoline.”

Hank scoffed. “Oh, he needs a vent so he doesn’t blow himself up from gas fumes. Too bad he thought that far ahead.”

Connor faced Hank, tilting his head. “Your retorts are top notch today.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Hank threw his arms in the air. “I’m a little on edge right now.”

You gave the man’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before returning to the matter. “The kitchen would be perfect. It’s large, meant to be able to cook for all the children at once. There’s a huge vent and even a natural gas stove.”

“Then it’s decided.” Connor grabbed the door’s handle, pausing for a moment. “You’ll have to lead us though.”

There was no hesitation in your mind. Only focus, determination - you wouldn’t let your old feelings get in the way.

_No matter what._

You exited the car, opening Connor’s door and offering your hand to him. “Leave it to me! I’ve got this.”

His eyes were soft as he accepted your gesture. He stepped out of the car, pressing your body into his the way you taught him. “I know you do.”

“But one last thing before we take this show on the road.” Hank walked around the car to meet you. The corner of his mouth tugged into a apologetic grin as he grabbed your hands, placing the cool metal of a gun in them. “Do you know how to use one?”

“No…” You muttered quietly, staring at the foreign object. It weighed heavily in your fingers, but lighter than you guessed the weight of killing someone would feel.

“I’m sorry,” Hank’s voice was somber, “but I need to know you can protect yourself incase something happens.” He adjusted your body into a firing stance; your dominant arm locked, grip firmly around the gun, other arm supporting.

“This is the safety.” Hank spoke, clicking a little metal piece down. “The gun is now live and pulling the trigger will fire a bullet.” He quickly flicked the piece back up. “Make sure this is always up unless you’re ready to potentially take a life.”

Hank’s words settled deep in your chest as he pulled a small holster from his coat pocket, clicking it around your hips. He placed the gun in its rightful spot, locking it in with a snap of a button.

His blue eyes pierced you. “Don’t take it out unless you absolutely have to, okay kid?”

You nodded, gulping down the thick feeling in your throat. You hoped you wouldn’t have to.

“Okay.” Connor spoke, his gaze steeled as he looked you. He uncrossed his arms, fists forming at his sides. “Let’s go.”

—

Thorns of overgrown rose bushes scraped at your legs; their blood colored blossoms led you -  winding and turning until you reached a familiar gate, ‘ _Rosewater Orphanage_ ’ was painted on wood above.

“Holy shit,” Hank murmured as he gazed past the metal bars.

The orphanage was even larger than you remembered. The shadow of its massive presence loomed over you, swallowing you whole. Ivy had grown up the sides of its brick wall exterior like a parasite; it wrapped itself around the pillars of the front door’s awning, framing the dozens of dirty, neglected windows. Cracks had worked themselves through the worn cement of the walkway, up and across the remnants of children’s paintings that time and rain had forgotten to wash away.

Connor opened the gate, his footsteps soundless as he led you to the double doored entrance. He pulled a gun from an underarm holster that his leather jacket had concealed. With a small nod, Connor pushed open the door.

It opened with ease, groaning as the sickening smell of iron welcomed you.

The click of Hank’s flashlight revealed a nightmare. Blood had soaked into the wood of the foyer - staining, dirtying, ruining whatever blissful reminiscence you had left. Memories of children snapped under your feet as you proceeded into the rust colored room, the feeling of nausea growing with each crunch.    

“They never cleaned up the fucking crime scene after?” Hank whispered angrily, pulling his shirt to cover his nose.

“The records say they did.” Connor paused, his LED spinning red. “I can see some faint traces of dried thirium on the floor - an android  _was_  involved.”

Hank screwed up his face. “Were we still doubting that this is Tim’s faul-”

“No - there’s no one else it could have been.” You kept your voice low and sharp as you tiptoed around the decay. “Follow me.”

The further you walked into the orphanage, the darker it became. An oppressive weight pressed against your lungs, threatening to suffocate you. You kept your eyes forward, leaving the dust and dried blood in your peripherals. You knew that if you looked too much - if you thought too much - your numb facade would crumble.

You crept into the dining room, the stench of rot even stronger than the blood; the carpet had become molded, the remains of spilt food and drink saturating it. Curtains were shredded and sullied, china dish cabinets knocked down. You almost tripped over the steak knives that had been stabbed into the floorboards.

The door to the basement was a thick metal, blue and tired. You pressed lightly against it, and then harder - It wouldn’t budge.

Hank sighed softly. “Classic.”

Connor attempted to fiddle with the door, hands dropping in defeat. “Is there another way?”

“No.” You bit down, forcing your brain to think. “But there  _could be_  a key in George’s office on the first floor. He always had spares of the important keys.”

“We’d better try it.” Hank frowned as his light illuminated scattered dolls - frayed and abandoned. “I wanna get out of here as soon as possible.”

“Me too.” Your voice shook as you tore your eyes away from the cracked porcelain faces that you once adored. You turned, footsteps swift as you headed back to the entrance and up its grand staircase.

At the end of the first floor’s hallway was a single, lonely door. You put your fingers around the handle.

You hoped that when you opened the door, you would see George sitting at his dignified oak desk. You hoped that he would pull down his round spectacles, and smile - saying your name when he realized who had come in. He would ask if you’d gotten in trouble again, and you’d say that you hadn’t - you just needed help with a crossword.

But that was in the past,

_and this was now._

You opened the door, and all you saw was the desk - a desolate desk, an empty room lacking an owner. You walked forward, drawing a line through its dust with your hand, finding once forbidden drawers. You always wanted to figure out what secrets were held within its wood, but never had the cha-

_QUACK, QUACK, QUACK - DUCKS GO QUACK!_

A loud noise rang throughout the room, draining the blood from your face. You spun around to find Hank’s foot atop a blinking, blaring toy.

_MOO, MOO, MOO - COWS GO MOO!_

Connor rushed for the toy, muzzling the noise in his jacket.

_BAH, BAH, BAH - SHEEPS GO B-_

You heard a crack, and then complete silence. Connor pulled the toy from his jacket, a plastic farmer decapitated in his hands.

Your heartbeat echoed through your ears.

Your stomach was in your throat.

You shakily looked to Connor, who stood frozen in place other than the hand that halted you and Hank from moving.

Seconds felt like an eternity as you waited for a signal.

And you didn’t dare to breathe.

You only strained to hear - searching for a creak, or a rustle of clothes - but all you could hear was the static in your head, getting louder and louder.

It was deafening,

unbearable.  

And then finally, Connor spoke.

“If Tim was here, he definitely heard that.” He lowered his hand, gently placing the toy to the ground.

You collapsed, legs weak from the adrenaline.

“But I didn’t hear anything after the noise - no movements.”

“ _Fuck me_! I’m sorry.” Hank exhaled, resting his hands on his knees. “That scared the shit out of me.”

You held a hand over your chest, finally managing some words. “You didn’t hear any movement? Is Tim even here?”

“I don’t know.” Connor kept his voice hushed. “Stay quiet though - we can’t let down our guard.”

“Right.” Hank heaved in one last deep breath before standing upright. “And I’ll make sure to watch where I fucking step.”

“Probably a good idea.” You muttered jokingly, using the desk as a support to help you stand. You began rummaging through the keys, reading their IDs aloud. “Laundry, laundry chutes, electrical, washrooms one, two and three, bedrooms…”

“But no basement, right?” Hank smirked.

You ran your fingers through the keys again, carefully, attentively - shaking your head  _no_  at the results.

Hank clicked his tongue, a look of irritation spreading across his face. “So, what’s our new plan? Have Connor shoot off the lock again?”

“I already considered the possibility.” Connor leaned against a wall. “I inspected the door earlier. The hinges aren’t exposed and the lock is a deadbolt - I preconstructed 567 scenarios before deciding the thought was useless.”

Hank spat. “ _Fuck_.”

“Wait.” Your eyes gazed over the keys once more, an idea formulating in your head. “The laundry chute…”

“What?” Connor’s LED spun red as his brows furrowed.

“The laundry chute!” You looked up from the desk, pointing to a small door on the wall. “There’s a cupboard like this for laundry on each floor that all connect to the same chute - and I know that I’m small enough to climb down it. I could climb down to the kitchen and unlock the door.”

You could see both Hank and Connor tense up, hesitating.

“That’s a little  _fucking dangerous_ , don’t you think?” Hank’s jaw clenched. “What if you fell?”

“I’ve actually climbed it before, as a child - part of the reason why the chutes have locks on them now.” You admitted unwillingly.

“And what if Tim is there, in the kitchen?” Connor’s temple hadn’t stopped flashing red. “It is physically impossible for Hank or I to come down that chute with you.”

“The chute cupboard is practically right beside the basement door - and you said it yourself that there’s been no signs of movement! Tim might not even be there.” You refused to back down from Connor’s glare. “I can do this. Let me help.”

Hank placed a hand on your arm. “It’s not about that - we just don’t want to put you at risk.”

“How many times have you put your life at risk for the people you love?” The words slipped out of your mouth - your feelings exposing you. “Give me the chance. I’ve been a coward since this whole thing started - but we need to catch Tim, for my sake, for  _yours_  and  _Connor’s_  - to make Cole proud, to avenge my family and the exploited androids - the android that gave his life for me!”

You clutched the key tight in your hand.

“Wait for me by the basement door, and come in as soon as I open it.” Your voice was just above a whisper. “Let me do this.”

You could see their eyes wavering, confliction painting itself across their faces.

“If Tim is there I’ll just do a little…” A small smile formed at your lips. “ _Tactical espionage_.”

“That is  _not_  reassuring.” Connor scoffed at your bad joke.

You held up the key again, eyes pleading. “Well?”

“If you do encounter him…” Hank stood defeatedly, reaching out his pinkie finger to you. “Promise you won’t try to be a hero - promise you’ll just run to the door and unlock it.”

You smiled again, wrapping your pinkie finger tightly around his.

“I promise.”


	17. GOODBYE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone so much for everything - all of your amazing feedback, kind comments and kudos!!
> 
> Just one more chapter left! :') Thank you to everyone who has stuck around for this ending, and this crazy story that has gotten away from me.

“ _Shit_ ”, you thought to yourself, dragging the word out in your head. The beam of Hank’s flashlight could barely reach five feet down the chute - and the only thing it did manage to reveal was webs and dust.

Every horror game you’d ever played told you this was a bad idea -  _a terrible idea_. Zombies would await you, pulling you from the chute as you grew closer - they’d bite into your neck as you tried to run away, spewing acid into the wound-

“Second thoughts, kid?” Hank tapped your shoulder.

You jumped, pulling away from the chute - hiding your irrational fear with a smile. “For the record, zombies aren’t biologically possible right?”

“I suppose it is actually  _possible_.” Connor grinned, crossing his arms across his chest. “ _Ophiocordyceps unilateralis_  - a fungi with the ability to hijack an ant’s brain and alter its behaviour into spreading the fungi.”

Your eyes grew wide listening to the story.

“If a virus were able to manipulate the human brain like so, and then cause humans to transfer the virus through biting-”

Hank smacked Connor across the back. “Put a sock in it, will ya? You’re freaking her out.”

“She asked.” He grinned again. “And I always do my best to answer.”

You looked at Connor and Hank’s expressions.

Brown and blue eyes crinkled, lips curled into smiles.

You thought back to how Connor held Hank in the rain, and how you held Hank as he cried in your arms.

Every horror game you’d ever played told you this was a bad idea - but if you could protect their happiness, then this was the best damn idea you’ve ever had.

“Alright.” You rolled up your sleeves and pushed the hair from your face. “I’m ready.”

Hank gave Connor a small pat, stopping and nodding to you before leaving the room.

Connor walked up as he left, affixing a small pocket light to your vest. “Hank and I will need to head back downstairs as soon as you start your descent.” He frowned. “You don’t need to do this. We can wait-”

“No, we can’t.” You bit your lip. “More people will die, more androids will die. If he is here, we need to finish this now.”

Connor sighed, wrapping his arms around you. His grip was strained,  _desperate_.

“I hate that I can’t protect you.”

He ran his thumb across the bottom of your jaw, tilting your face towards his, pressing his lips into yours.

“Be careful,” Connor’s voice was quiet, restained, “for my sake.”

He dipped his head down and against your neck, pressing a small kiss into your skin.

“Be careful, for this selfish android who loves you.”

You swallowed hard, keeping the tears and heat from crawling up your throat.

“Kids,” Hank’s voice rang from outside the room. “If we’re doing this, we need to act now.”

Connor pulled away first, fixing your hair, straightening out your shirt and vest - you repaid the gesture, reaching up to smooth his loose strands, and adjust his tie. His LED flashed yellow in response, a bashful look spreading across his features.

_He can make that look too_ , you smiled to yourself.  _What other expressions hadn’t you seen yet?_

You placed the precious thought into the back of your mind - you could think about it after.

You began lowering your legs into the darkness as Connor held your arms, steadying them upon the small wooden ridges throughout the chute.

“You know what would suck?” Hank walked back into the room, watching.

You huffed your hair away from your face. “What?”

“If you got stuck.”

“Hank!” You attempted to reach out and slap his shoulder, missing him.

“Are you stabilized now? Will you be able to successfully climb down?” Connor asked, slapping Hank for you.

“Yes.” You nodded, mouthing a silent thanks. “You two can head downstairs now, back to the blue door in the dining room.”

“You got it, kid.” Hank spoke, grabbing the sleeve of Connor’s leather jacket and pulling him to the door. “I know you don’t want to leave her, but she can do it.”

“ _Be safe_.” Connor repeated to you, his brows furrowing into something more than worry.

“Connor-” You called after him softly. “I love you.”

His face twisted into a look of pain, concern -  _regret_  - as Hank dragged him out of the room. You watched as their backs faded from your vision, the sound of their clothes disappearing into silence - and then you smiled to yourself again, this time sad.

_That was another new expression._

You inhaled, shaking the somber feeling from your heart - and then you got to work. Connor’s pocket light lit up the interior, directing which foot went where, which hand grabbed what. You felt nostalgic as your fingers remembered the best grooves to slip themselves into, and how your body remembered where to shift its weight.

One door passed - the main floor. The next door would be your stop.

Your left hand reached out, curling around the next ledge - the right hand-

You bit your tongue, exhaling a silent scream of pain into your sleeve. You scrambled to bring the pocket light up.

Blood dripped from the wooden ledge, it’s trail leading your eyes to the nail that stabbed itself into the stitches you already had and through your palm.

You brought your face to your arm, bunching up your shirt’s fabric under your teeth. You took in a deep breath, and bit down hard - whimpering a cry as you pulled up your hand, wrenching it free from the nail.

You panted quietly, dragging your sleeve across the wound, pressing it into your body in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

_That wasn’t there before._

You flashed the light down, the silver of multiple nails shining in it’s beam - every ledge had one.

_Were the nails a trap?_

You pushed your body against the wall of the chute - you could see the next door -  _the kitchen door_. You pulled your blood soaked hand away from you, grunting as you forced it to grip the next ledge.

_You had to keep going._

Legs reached, hands grasped and you swore in your head as you dodged every nail - until you finally reached your destination. You perched yourself on a ledge, turning off the pocket light - the smell of gasoline crept through the cracks of the door.

_Connor had said Tim might be using gasoline to make red ice so then-_

You let out a hushed sigh.

_Tim was making red ice here._

You noiselessly pushed open the chute door, revealing a kitchen - but it wasn’t familiar, it was jarring - a rust stained mess of pots and thirium,  _fresh_  thirium, all illuminated by a pile of discarded Cyberlife armbands.

You looked, carefully, meticulously - gulping at the sight of more android corpses, gritting your teeth at the unimaginable ways they were mutilated. You scanned for the red glow of Tim’s eye socket and your shoulders dropped in relief when you failed to find it.

You heaved yourself out of the chute, dashing towards the kitchen door as soon as your feet touched the cement. You ran up a small flight of stairs, leaving smears of blood across the rail.

You gasped as you sprinted for the door, fingertips reaching - touching-

_Red._

Suddenly, all you could see was a sickening crimson in your sight.

Tim’s arm reached out from the darkness - grabbing your hair, wrapping it around his hand as he dragged you towards him. You let out a cry - fingers still grasping for the door’s handle.

“Don’t open that door-” Tim demanded, his voice foreign from what you knew. “Don’t make me force you again-”

You lunged forward, screaming as the hair ripped from your scalp - your fingers flicked up, a small click of the door’s handle rewarding you before you drew Hank’s gun from your side - thoughts of the safety, thoughts of the trigger all flying through your mind - but you could barely wrap your hand around the grip before a crack rang throughout the room as Tim pushed your arm past it’s limits.

“Why do you make me  _do_  these things?” Tim shrieked as he dropped you. “Why do you  _make_  me hurt you?”

You collapsed to your knees, shock coursing through your body as your mangled arm fell against the cement. Connor kicked open the door, gun drawn as he ran to your side.

Hank came in after, eyes growing wide with rage as he saw you. “You son of a bitch!” He roared as the sound of his gun deafened the room - Tim fell to the ground, his left leg incapacitated from a bullet in its thigh.

“Hank.” Connor’s voice was pained as he held you. His LED spun red, his jaw clenched. “He broke her arm.”

“ _You fuckin’ prick_!” Hank scoffed, as he gazed at Tim in disgust. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now - why are you after her? Why did you kidnap her?”

Tim rolled over on the ground, his jaw sagging against his chest as he wheezed in amusement. “She came here - I didn’t  _make_  her. Poor children she said-” He turned towards you. “ _Yes poor children_! But you didn’t want revenge?  _Why_?” He reached down to his leg, swirling his fingers in the dark thirium. “I didn’t want to  _force_  you, but you  _made_  me-”

“Poor children? That’s  _rich_!” Hank boomed. He reached into the pocket of his coat, holding up the small black diary from the apartments. “You murdered those children - tortured them!”

He threw the book at Tim, the sound of it’s flipping pages echoing across the room.

“You killed every last child - and those caretakers too!” Hank’s voice was ravenous, threatening to tear Tim into pieces. “Did you torture them all? Or just that one who wrote in there? You’ve been making this fucking blood red ice for  _four years_  haven’t you - and you started it all with the blood of the orphanage childre-”

Tim began to howl. He sobbed against the cement, he writhed on the ground.

And then he stopped.

He stopped and snickered, grabbing the diary, convulsing as he laughed into its parchment.

“June 5th, 2034 -  _my_  family is dead!  _I_  want to die, but he won’t let  _me_!”

Tim begun to read aloud, his cheeks bunching and pulling the remains of his lips into a maniacal smile.

“June 7th, 2034 -  _I_  don’t know how long  _I’ve_  been trapped in this basement!”

Hank stepped back, his face unsettled as if he felt sick. “What in the fuck are you doing…?”

Tim laughed harder, static ringing from his throat until the noise abruptly stopped - replaced with something so bitter, something so  _sharp_  you thought it could kill you on the spot.

“June 4th, 2034 - I answer the door. There are three humans with bloodshot eyes, the smell of chemicals wafting from their breath as they press a knife against my neck and demand money-”

Hank’s voice shook. “That’s not in the diary-”

“Peter comes down the stairs, and he sees.” Tim continued. “What does a six year old do when he sees a knife? He cries for help - and then he was the  _first_ to get stabbed. I was second, and then I held the burden of watching those  _filthy_  humans storm the place. 22 more screams came after me -   _they hunted down every last one_.”

A new tortured smirk distorted his mouth.

“Ah, and then they came back - they realized my blood was blue and that I wasn’t dead. No, but I wish I  _was_  - they smiled as they blew the smoke of their red ice into my face, they laughed as they shoved it down my throat-”

You looked into Tim’s face, searching for something you didn’t know still existed.

“What are you saying?” You whispered at first, eyes growing hot. “What-”

Your shoulders began to shake.

Connor pulled you closer, but it wasn’t enough - your emotions exploded within you, hysteria evident in your shrill voice and trembling fists.

“ _Why are you saying this_?!” You screamed, tears rolling down your face. “ _Why can’t you just get to the fucking point_?!”

Tim stopped smiling - his lips became a thin line, quivering like yours.

And then he spoke. His voice was as silky as you remembered, honey dripping from his illinois accent.

“I’m reading you my diary.”

Hank froze.

Connor froze.

You froze.

“You don’t believe me?” Tim laughed as he watched the horrified expression forming on your face.

You were a mess, you wanted to puke, you wanted to hide. You wanted to convince yourself that he was just making this up - that he was trying to win your sympathy.

“I told you before that I wouldn’t waste my time lying - I’m not programmed to be inefficient.” The grinding of his biocomponents reverberated the room as he forced himself to sit. He reached over to his left hand, wrenching it off, sneering in malice as black spilled from his severed wrist.

“Do you know what happens when red ice is introduced into an android’s system?” He tore off his arm next, adding to the puddle of ebony forming beneath him. “A chemical reaction.  _Science._  It consumes you like a virus - crystalizes the thirium within you, dirties it. It burns you - changes you.”

“The humans-” Hank’s eyes wavered, his voice broke. He spoke of the diary as if he had memorized it. “They made  _you_  smoke red ice?”

“How do we even know you’re telling the truth?” Connor stood, his knuckles taut against his sides. His gaze was cold as he walked towards Tim, his hand fading to a mechanical white as he violently pressed into Tim’s dented shell. “I’ll probe you and find out.”

“Connor-”

Hank could barely finish calling out his name before Connor jumped back, grasping at his throat, at his face. His LED spun red,  _deep crimson red_ , as he heaved, choked, collapsed. You caught him, just barely - wincing as his body crashed into your broken arm.

“What did you do to Connor?!” Hank blared, gun pointed at Tim again.

“Your  _Connor_  just saw what they did to me-” Tim looked at you while he spoke to Hank. He dug his nails into the cement, dragging his limp body closer. “He saw how they locked me away, how they broke me, how they stomped on my face! I became a deviant - I felt every single thing they did to me and I couldn’t even kill myself, because of how the red ice messed with my neural network-”

“Don’t you fucking move!” Hank screamed again, his finger beginning to press against the trigger.

“August 1st, 2034.” Tim pulled closer to you. “I killed them, and it was amazing - this human concept of  _revenge_  - but it wasn’t enough. I had a thought - filthy,  _filthy_  humans - if they smoke red ice, they should  _die_.”

There was a blur of movement - a trail of black thirium stained the floor, leading to Hank. A gunshot rang throughout the room, clanging against a pot as Hank fell to the ground - his gun sliding across the floor. You pulled yourself to your feet, running for it - using everything you had to sprint for it.

Tim had reached for the gun, but you were faster - and you stood, hovering over him as you pressed it hard against his head. You dug it into his skin, the shaking in your arm rattling throughout the metal of the gun.

You looked down the iron sight and for a moment you could see Tim - Not GOR, but  _Tim_. You saw his blond hair and hazel eyes staring back at you. You saw him sitting on your bed, smiling as you opened his card, laughing as the sparkles fell on to your lap.

But that was just a memory - Tim was dead and this was GOR.

“All I wanted was for someone to save me.” He spoke quietly, pressing the barrel into himself. “It’s okay if it’s you-”

You clicked the safety off, wrapping your finger around the trigger.

“ _Tim_ ,”

You called his name for the last time.

“ _Goodbye_.”

—

_“Don’t say goodbye!” Tim pushed you playfully. “You’re not moving that far away - I’ll see you again.”_

_“I know!” You sobbed into your sleeve. “But I’m just going to miss you all so much.”_

_“We’ll be here whenever you want to return,” George wiped tears from his eyes. “I’ll make all your favorite foods!”_

_Ophelia flashed a rare smile. “Don’t forget to do your chores-”_

_“- and don’t forget everything I taught you!” Richard chimed in, pulling you close for a hug._

_“When you introduce us to a boyfriend-” George scratched his beard. “Should I act as the kind father figure, or the mean, strict one - you know, just to give him a little scare?”_

_“No-” Richard laughed. “The role of strict guardian is already taken by Ophelia-”_

_Ophelia grabbed Richard by the ear dragging him back inside the orphanage. “I suddenly remembered all the bathrooms needed cleaning and it’s your turn to do them.”_

_George followed after, his pink cheeks pulling into a giant smile. “We’ll see you soon!”_

_“Isn’t it going to be too silent without all this bickering?” Tim’s eyes crinkled as he finished putting your last box into the trunk._

_You giggled, climbing into the driver’s seat. “Probably.”_

_Tim leaned against the side of the car, his profile illuminated by the sun._

_“If you don’t come back-”_

_“You know I will!” You interrupted._

_“But if you don’t-” His brows furrowed. “At least don’t forget about us.”_

_You paused, moving him aside as you stepped out of the car. You wrapped your arms around him, squeezing as hard as you could._

_“I could never forget about you.” Your words became muffled in his chest._

_“Thank you.”_

_His voice was soft as he squeezed back._

_“I could never forget you either.”_


	18. LOVE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are guys!! The final chapter. Thank you all so much for your kind comments and kudos!! I hope you've enjoyed this crazy ride with me. :')
> 
> If you're not ready to end it, please check out Connor's POV of "Save me" - Chapter 1!

 

 

 

 

_It was all over._

_With a thought, a blink, a breath, the contraction of a muscle, the pull of a trigger - it was all over._

You slowly brought your gaze to Hank, whose eyes were already on you - and you stared at each other for a moment, your arms shaking, his eyes wide in surprise - an unspoken conversation taking place;  _Are you okay? Are you hurt? Is he dead?_

“You saved him.” A withered voice croaked from behind. “That’s why he lured you here-”

You spun around, searching for the source of the staggered words, finding it - slumped against a cupboard, arms resting on his knees.

“Connor!” You screamed, running and pulling his body close to yours.

“I saw everything when I probed his memories - when you got here, why you came.” He leaned into your touch, resting his head against your chest. “Everything he said was the truth.”

Connor’s breathing hitched as he sat up - the pained look across his face began to dissipate, his fists beginning to unfold.

“Tim kept tabs on you this whole time - making sure you were okay, that you had everything you needed. But, one day he sent you a card - I remember he distinctly made it from construction paper, filling it with sparkles and money. He was positive that if you received it, you would come back to the orphanage.”

“He was watching over me?” You questioned, carefully brushing the stray hairs from Connor’s eyes. “Why did he wait four years to say anything?”

“He needed you to come back,” Connor’s gaze moved to the floor, his voice dropping to a whisper. “So that he could ask you to kill him.”

Your fingers stopped moving, hovering over the blinking yellow of Connor’s LED.

“Androids are not too different from humans.” He grabbed your hand, comparing it to his. “In a human brain, the frontal lobe dictates personality, behaviour, emotions - an android has a neural network, with a synthetic cerebrum - synthetic lobes. The red ice affected Tim’s so that his…”

Connor hesitated on this next word.

“…  _emotions_  became heightened. He hated himself to the point that he saw less and less reason to keep making red ice. He just wanted to die - but everytime he tried, he was overcome with fear.”

“And I refused?” Your voice grew shaky, bits and pieces of memories coming back to you.

“No…” Connor hesitated again, his eyes meeting yours. “You didn’t say anything -  _you didn’t even recognize him_.”

With those words, the memory hit you like a lightning bolt.

You instantly remembered it all - how you received the card, how you threw the money in your bag and took a bus to Geneva. You remembered thinking that  _only_  Tim knew about the card he gave you, its contents, its drawings - and that this card was identical. You arrived at the orphanage and saw someone - a stranger,  _a monster_. He pleaded for you to kill him, but you tried to run instead, doing everything in your power to escape.

And then the monster caught your leg.

The only thing you could remember after that was waking up in the abandoned apartments, next to to the android that had saved you.

“Tim thought that you didn’t remember him. He blamed it on humans and then his self-loathing became  _rage_.” Connor watched your face, softening its grave expression as he brushed a thumb across your cheek. “In that moment, he decided that he needed your help to make sure that those who smoke red ice continued to be punished…”

“So he started using your blood.” Hank walked up, collapsing next to you and Connor. He reached out, placing a firm hand on your shoulder. “Don’t think that any of this was your fault.”

“But-”

“Hank is right.” Connor interrupted your protest. “Without you, Tim would have kept mindlessly aiming for revenge.”

“And without you, we never would have stopped him.” Hank chimed in.

Sirens began to ring throughout the basement, growing louder and louder - suddenly coming to a halt above. You could hear doors cracking open and the stomps of boots pounding against the floorboards overhead.

“I called for backup when we heard you screaming outside the kitchen door.” Hank admitted as he helped you and Connor stand. “I’m glad I did though - I’m worried about that arm of yours.”

You stifled a small laugh, “Is it grossing you out?”

Hank blinked hard in surprise at your joke, the serious lines in his face fading as he chuckled alongside you. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but,  _yeah_  - it looks fucking disgusting.”

You held out your arm, gagging at the unnatural way it sat and Hank muttered profanities, refusing to look.

“I’m glad to see you both have kept your sense of humor.” Connor quipped, as the kitchen door flew open.

Uniformed officers and paramedics stormed the kitchen, shining flashlights, running to you - insisting you get onto a stretcher. You flinched as they tended to your arm, grunting as they put pressure on your hand.

“We need to get her to a hospital now,” a paramedic called out, “is there any family we can notify?”

You froze, unintentionally glancing to Tim and the splatter of thirium beneath him.

“Yes, there is.” Hank spoke before you could begin to open your mouth. You looked to him with wide eyes - and he looked back with a grin across his face.

“It’s us.” He pointed to himself and Connor. “We’re her family.”

A heat began to build up in your eyes as the stretcher lifted from the ground.

Hank looked to you again, giving you a small wave. “Don’t cry, okay kid? We’ll see you at the hospital.”

Tears threatened to spill regardless - mixed feelings of happiness and guilt washing over you. “I’m sorry,” your voice cracked, “that I dragged you both into this - but I Iove you both, so much-”

“Don’t be sorry.” Connor walked alongside, watching as the paramedics started carrying you to the ambulance.

“Don’t ever say sorry for dragging us into this-”

He stopped at the doorway - calling out after you with a smile on his face.

“Not when it brought us to you.”

—

_“This is CTN TV with all the latest news - the reign of big time red ice distributor known under the alias of GOR has ended. Live on the line we have Lieutenant Hank Anderson from the Detroit City Police Department - a former member of the Detroit red ice task force, and the man behind the end of GOR. Now, Lieutenant, there are rumors that GOR was actually a rogue android - can you confirm whether or not this is true?”_

_“Yes, it- he was an android.”_

_“Is it possible that androids are dangerous now? Should the public be concerned about androids?”_

_“Although what GOR did can’t be justified - he became a deviant from human abuse. His emotions became amplified from subjected torture. So, to answer your question, if you treat androids with respect - treat them like you would a human - there is absolutely no cause for alarm.”_

_“Treat them like a human? Lieutenant, can you further elaborate on what you meant when you said he became a deviant - how does an android have emotions?”_

_“You know what - you’d better ask Cyberlife about that one.”_

-

“Hank is surprisingly good at talking to the press, huh?”

“Yes he is.” Connor grinned, sliding the leather of the wheel under his fingers. “I doubt anyone would believe us if we said he almost jeopardized the entire mission by stepping on a child’s toy.”

“Probably not.” You laughed, shifting your weight in the seat. “So, do you plan on telling me where we’re going?”

“Not yet.” He hummed, effortlessly manueving the car.

Connor had picked you up from the hospital, signing you out, and paying for your bills. He arrived wearing a crisp white button up, perfectly tucked into fitted grey dress pants with shiny new ebony oxfords. When you asked him what the occasion was, he simply said ‘you’ll see’.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

You glanced over - the sun created a warm glow around his silhouette, illuminating just how effortlessly handsome he was. He lazily held the steering wheel, his shirt accentuating his muscles and how they flexed as he switched gears.

“How does the cast feel?”

Your eyes wandered from his lips that you’d kissed, to his jaw that you’d caressed. Butterflies fluttered in your chest at the thought that you could so easily reach out and touch wherever you wanted-

You felt a hand squeeze your thigh, snapping your vision into focus.

“Hey,” Connor looked to you, eyebrows raised in amusement.

You spun to face forward, red spreading across your cheeks and ears - embarrassment sinking deep into your stomach.

With his eyes still on the road, Connor reached to you, gently pulling your face towards him.

“It’s okay to stare.” He grinned, “I am your boyfriend, after all.”

“Boyfrie-” You choked on the word, coughing - grabbing for a nearby bottle of water. You gulped it down, your heart beating out of your body. “ _Boyfriend?_ When did you start using that term?”

He playfully glanced to you. “Right now.”

Suddenly, you felt the vehicle stop, and in one fluid movement, Connor undid his seatbelt, opened his door and then opened yours.

“Do you remember where we are?” He asked as he helped you from the car.

You looked around, gaze landing on the house across from you. It was a small home - pale beige in color with a stone veneer bottom. The simple awning brought your eyes to the front door - how it’s worn, warm brown invited you.

“I could never forget.” You smiled. “This is Hank’s house.”

“You’re right.” Connor walked you to the entrance, a soft grin still spread across his lips. He grasped the door’s handle, turning it, letting the sound of smooth jazz escape.

“Are you ready?” He called out.

“Ah, shit!” You could hear Hank banging and clattering from inside. “Yeah- Uh, ready!”

And then Connor slowly opened the door.

You saw balloons in every color of the rainbow - more than you had ever seen in one place before. They were spread across the whole living room, all lightly bumping against the ceiling, curled dainty ribbons tied to their ends. Confetti had been strewn over the couch and desk, some on the TV - and some on Hank, who stood next to Sumo in the middle of the room, wearing a flour dusted apron with a cake in his hands.  

He held the cake to you. It was beautiful - frosted and sprinkled, the smell of buttercream perfuming the air around it.

You looked around the room again - this time to your new family,

to Sumo,

to Hank,

to Connor - who remained beside you, lips parted, chocolate eyes crinkled - a smile across his face as he grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

_“Welcome home, my love.”_

 

 


End file.
